Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Bolivia and
experiences of Okinawan-Bolivians, it
UNIVERSITY of HAWAII PRESS argues that transnational Okinawan-
Japan
Honolulu, Hawaii 96822-1888 Bolivians underwent the various racial-
ization processes in which they were
ISBN 978-0-8248-3344-2
90000 portrayed by non-Okinawan Bolivians
living in the Colonia and native-born
Japanese mainlanders in Yokohama and
9 780824 833442
www.uhpress.hawaii.edu TA K U S U Z U K I
(Continued on back flap)
Taku Suzuki
1 5 1 4 1 3 1 2 1 1 1 0 6 5 4 3 2 1
vii Acknowledgments
Migrants
83 [ 3 ] From Patrn to Nikkei-jin Rdsha: Class
Transformations
113 [ 4 ] Educating Good Nikkei and Okinawan
Subjects
146 [ 5 ] Gendering Transnationality: Marriage, Family,
and Dekasegi
183 CONCLUSION : Embodiment of Local Belonging
191 Notes
215 Glossary
219 References
245 Index
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Racializing Culture
and Class in a
Transnational Field
At the same time, human bodies are vehicles for individual subjects to
perform these differences in their daily lives (Butler 1990; OConnell 1999),
and these daily performances actively produce the body as a body of deter-
minate type (Grosz 1994, x). Individuals performative practices could trans-
gress, subvert, or legitimate the socially constructed and corporally inscribed
social categories to which they belong as they cultivate, in the Foucauldian
sense, their bodies into a representation of a certain social identity through
the stylized repetition of acts they consciously or unconsciously perform
in daily lives (Butler 1990, 140). From this perspective, an individual neither
turns from a blank subject before the constitution of a subject into some-
one inscribed with a particular social identity, nor is he or she merely a pup-
pet of sociocultural processes (OConnell 1999, 65). Instead, an individual
is always and already becoming a socially defined subject through everyday
performances.12
By refusing to presume the existence of raw (blank, natural, or abstract)
bodies before their social constitutions, two forms of racialization of Okinawan-
Bolivians, as Japanese farm owners in Colonia Okinawa and as South American
Nikkei-jin laborers in Yokohama, are conceptualized here as processes in which
societal influences inscribed and naturalized certain cultural and class identities
upon their bodies (physiques and behaviors), while individual Okinawan-Bolivi-
ans conformed to or resisted these categories through daily practices.
Colonia Okinawa
Colonia Okinawa (Okinawa Ijchi, literally Okinawa immigrants land), an ag-
ricultural settlement founded by Okinawan settlers from the Ryky Islands of
southwest Japan, is a small rural village located 30 miles northeast of Santa Cruz
de la Sierra, the capital of Santa Cruz Prefecture (Departamento de Santa Cruz),
and 15 miles east of Montero, a small hub on the trans-Bolivian highway. Santa
Cruz is the largest among the nine prefectures of Bolivia and constitutes ap-
proximately 34 percent of the land of the entire nation. A large portion of Santa
Cruz Prefecture belongs to the eastern lowland, or llano, that shares its borders
with Brazil and Paraguay. Unlike the Andean highland in western Bolivia, or
altiplano, Santa Cruz Prefecture is known for its mild tropical climate, with an
annual average temperature of 24C to 26C (75F to 79F), with distinct rainy
seasons (November to April) and dry seasons (May to October). As the capital
city of the agricultural- and oil-rich prefecture, Santa Cruz de la Sierra has re-
cently become the largest city in Bolivia, with a population of more than one
million, replacing La Paz as the countrys demographic and economic center.19
Seventeen groups of Okinawan immigrants arrived in this location between
1954 and 1963 as agricultural settlers, and more than 1,500 people have moved
into its three subdistricts: the oldest and most populous, Colonia Uno, and
smaller and newer Colonia Dos and Colonia Trs. The vast majority of these
settlers, however, soon left the Colonia for Santa Cruz de la Sierra, So Paulo,
or Buenos Aires, or returned to Okinawa in the 1960s and 1970s. Around
Racializing Culture and Class 11
Map of Bolivia
2000, some eight hundred Colonia residents were members of Okinawa Ni-
hon Boribia Kykai, or Nichibo Kykai, the self-governing organization for the
Okinawan-Bolivians in the village. The majority of Nichibo Kykai members
were Issei Okinawan settlers and their children, but there were a small number
of Naichi-jin Japanese from the major four islands of Japan, who had settled
in Colonia Okinawa since the 1970s through Japanese government-sponsored
settlement programs.
12 INTRODUCTION
numerousformal and informal social gatherings, but also to create and devel-
op connections with the students parents and grandparents. I attended wed-
dings, a funeral, and numerous informal gatherings at private homes. I was at
the schools inauguration and graduation ceremonies, field trips, and welcome
and farewell parties for other volunteer Japanese teachers. I participated in lo-
cal festivals and events such as the Harvest Festival (hnen-sai), the Colonia
Okinawa Track Meet (und-kai), Respect for Elders Day (keir no hi), New
Years Day, Mothers Day, and Fathers Day.
Through these occasions, I came to know many, though not all, Okinawan-
Bolivians, especially those who had school-age children. Although I identi-
fied myself as a graduate student at a United States university conducting field
research for my doctoral dissertation, they viewed me primarily as a school-
teacher, which distinguished me from the communitys stereotype of an aca-
demic researcher as an intruder who stays in the Colonia only for a short peri-
od of time and demands their cooperation. I also joined a sanshin club, a group
that gets together once a week to play sanshin, a traditional Okinawan string
musical instrument, through which I befriended elderly Issei club members. I
also regularly spent time at the Methodist Church kindergarten for Okinawan-
Bolivian children and attended services at the Methodist Church, where I be-
friended several elderly Issei who were regulars at church functions. Although
I managed to find housing for myself in Colonia Uno for most of the research,
I also lived with an Okinawan-Bolivian family for about three months. During
that period, I frequently went to the familys farmland with the father of the
family and dined, chatted, watched TV, and sometimes played board games
with other members of the family.
During the course of my research, I conducted approximately eighty formal
interviews with Issei, Nisei Okinawan-Bolivians, and Naichi-jin Japanese set-
tlers and non-Nikkei Bolivians. The formal interviews, lasting an average of
two hours, were normally conducted at the interviewees homes. The individu-
als selected for formal interviews were mostly those who had returned from
dekasegi in Japan, but I also conducted a number of interviews with elderly
Issei, whose children had migrated to Japan. While the interviewees had di-
verse backgrounds in terms of age, generation, gender, and other social identi-
ties, I reiterate that the goal of my research was not to delineate generalized
patterns found among the interviewees answers. I instead explored how my
interviewees invested meanings in and interpreted Japaneseness, Okinawan-
ness, and Bolivianness at specific sites and at specific moments, because these
categories, like any axes of identity, are contested and shifting open signifiers
14 INTRODUCTION
(Louie 2004, 21) that become relevant only through individuals narrations and
actions.
Meanwhile, as an embodied Japanese subject, I faced more obstacles in
socializing and conducting interviews with non-Nikkei Bolivians in the Co-
lonia. As will be revealed in the following chapters, the social divide between
Okinawan-Bolivians and non-Nikkei Bolivians was deep, and for a Japanese
national, it was difficult to transgress social boundaries and establish close rela-
tionships with non-Nikkei Bolivians because they were suspicious of or utterly
disinterested in Japanese outsiders. I managed to conduct several interviews
with parents of non-Nikkei Bolivian students of the community school at their
homes and had numerous casual conversations with those non-Nikkei Boliv-
ian laborers and domestic workers who worked for Okinawan-Bolivians, but
as they saw me as a friend of their employers, I often sensed their reluctance to
be frank with me.
The different forms and degrees of interactions I had with various subgroups
in the community remind us, as feminist and halfie anthropologists have
pointed out, that anthropologists cannot simply discard or change their social
identities in the field and that these identities are always defined in relation
to their research subjects within the larger power dynamics in society (Behar
1995; Kondo 1986, 1990; Narayan 1993). My social identities, which manifested
in my name, speech, and general demeanor during interviews and other forms
of interactions, were also invested with certain significances by the individuals
I encountered, regardless of my intention as an ethnographer. For instance, I
believe that my embodied Japaneseness influenced, to varying degrees and in
different ways, my interactions with Okinawan-Bolivian interviewees. On the
one hand, as ones connection to Japanperceived or realserved as valuable
symbolic capital within the Okinawan-Bolivian community, my interviewees
might have been tempted, if not compelled, to be overzealous in exhibiting their
Japanese identity in front of me, a Naichi-jin Japanese; on the other hand, as
longtime residents of Bolivia facing a Japanese student researcher, they eagerly
shared their native knowledge of Bolivian society with me.22
My age, gender, and occupation as a young (late twenties) male graduate
student with an urban, middle-class background as well as my residence in
the United States also factored into my research and general interactions with
Okinawan-Bolivians. Most significantly, the fact that Yokohama is my home-
town facilitated my conversations with Issei and Nisei; all Okinawan-Bolivian
interviewees asked me, at one point or another, where I was originally from,
and once they found out that I used to live where their children, relatives,
Racializing Culture and Class 15
friends, and/or themselves had lived, they became more eager to talk about the
topic of dekasegi in general. My background as a doctoral student, in contrast,
had a more ambiguous impact. It sometimes appeared to stir respect and/or
a feeling of inferiority among some interviewees, as few Okinawan-Bolivians
had postgraduate education; other times, it incited playful ridicule from them,
for I was still a student in my late twenties, without a real job and real
income (one Nichibo Kykai staff member asked me, with mocking serious-
ness, if I would like to come back and work for the organization after I finished
graduate school, as he predicted that I would fail to find a decent job). Some
female interviewees I tried to contact were hesitant to meet me at their homes
for an interview, citing their numerous household chores and the absence of
their husbands during the day. Many nevertheless were comfortable speaking
in standard Japanese and were willing to speak about school affairs, about
which they were well informed. Consequently, while it was true that in the
Okinawan-Bolivian community, as anthropologist Takeyuki Tsuda discovered
in his field research in Japanese factories, male researchers often have more
difficulty accessing female informants than women do with male informants
(2003, 2223), the Okinawan-Bolivian womens familiarity with the Japanese
language and my role as a teacher at their childrens schoolconsidered a fe-
male domain in the communityhelped me to establish a rapport with many
Issei and Nisei women over the period.23 The interplay of these preexisting so-
cial categories and roles in the community and my personal background pre-
sented advantages and disadvantages for my fieldwork, reminding me that, as
Andrea Louie writes, I was a subject of my own research, if only in the ways
that others perceived and interacted with me (2004, 9), whether I was willing
or not.
The majority of my interviews with Okinawan-Bolivian and Naichi-jin resi-
dents in the Colonia were conducted in standard Japanese rather than the
Okinawan language (Uchinguchi) or Spanish, while the interviews with non-
Nikkei local Bolivians were conducted in Spanish.24 Overall, Issei were most
comfortable in communicating in Uchinguchi and were very competent in
Japanese but were not fluent in Spanish (Anbo et al. 1998, 246). My request for
interviews was occasionally turned down by Issei, who cited their discomfort
in communicating in standard Japanese, as I could not speak to them fluently
in Uchinguchi. Nevertheless, a vast majority of Issei and Nisei women had
no problem communicating in standard Japanese, and they spoke far more
comfortably in standard Japanese than in Spanish. Meanwhile, some of the
interviews with Nisei, many of whom were more comfortable with Spanish
16 INTRODUCTION
than with either Japanese or Okinawan, were conducted in both Spanish and
Japanese. Some Nisei, particularly men, were clearly not very comfortable
speaking in Japanese, even though few seemed to have difficulty understand-
ing me when I spoke Japanese. As a result, our conversations mixed Spanish
and Japanese.25
Finally, my study involved archival research at the Nichibo Kykai head-
quarters. For three months, I worked for the association part time, cleaning
and organizing the old documents in storage. In exchange for this service, I
was allowed access to the official and unofficial documents in the archive, in-
cluding the existing records of the Colonias population changes over the past
two decades. Because of the poor preservation and organization of the docu-
ments, I was unable to conduct my archival research in a systematic manner.
The information I obtained through archival research was, therefore, at best
fragmented, although some of the documents, such as the copies of the asso-
ciations community notices and transcripts of board meetings, compensated
for my lack of access to the formal board meetings at Nichibo Kykai.
Tsurumi, Yokohama
In 1998, the number of Bolivian nationals in Japan was reported to be 3,461
by the Japanese government, but with those who have dual citizenship added,
the population was estimated to be closer to 4,000 (Ikuno 2000, 294). Most
Okinawan-Bolivians migrated to Kanagawa Prefecture or, more specifically, to
the cities of Hiratsuka, Atsugi, Yokohama, and Kawasaki. The Tsurumi Ward
of Yokohama became a major destination for dekasegi migrants from Colonia
Okinawa, especially the Nakadri and Ushioda neighborhoods. Although the
total Okinawan-Bolivian population has never been recorded, one researcher
counted twenty-one businesses in Tsurumi that were owned by Okinawan-
Bolivians from Colonia Okinawa, and at least 102 Okinawan-Bolivians lived in
the district in 1994 (Tsujimoto 1998c, 320, 326).
I conducted my fieldwork in Yokohama from June to October 2000. Un-
like in Colonia Okinawa, the Okinawan-Bolivian community in Yokohama, as
in other Japanese cities, was neither geographically confined nor tightly knit.
There was little daily contact and few community events that drew a large
number of Okinawan-Bolivians. Instead, most socialization took place spon-
taneously and privately among families, relatives, and personal friends. I made
several attempts to contact Okinawan-Bolivian dekasegi migrants in the area to
conduct interviews, but as they were preoccupied with work and family affairs,
Racializing Culture and Class 17
I was able to conduct only a few formal interviews and had difficulty creating
and expanding networks for my research. In addition, a formal organization
among Okinawan-Bolivians in Tsurumi, Boribia Shinboku-kai, or the Bolivia
Friendship Association, was defunct by the time I went to Japan.
I conducted much of my research, consequently, at workplaces and through
an informal social network. In addition to frequenting the Okinawan-Bolivi-
anowned restaurants in Tsurumi, where I often encountered, conversed, and
had drinks with dekasegi migrants from Colonia Okinawa, I worked as an elec-
trician at T Denki, a Nisei-owned electrical installation firm in Tsurumi, for
three months. As one of the T Denki staff, I went to work at several construc-
tion sites in Kanagawa Prefecture and the Tokyo Metropolitan Area with Oki-
nawan-Bolivians. I worked side by side with these T Denki electricians, who
were mostly young Nisei men in their twenties, and observed their work and
interactions with Japanese Naichi-jin supervisors and coworkers, and among
themselves, at various sites. I chatted with them while commuting from the
meeting place in Tsurumi to the days work site, during the breaks, and on the
trip back to Tsurumi. I often spent time at the company office, which was the T
Denki presidents apartment, and drank beer and chatted with them. I did not
conduct any formal interviews with my coworkers, but the informal conversa-
tions with these electricians turned out to be more revealing than the formal
interviews I had with other Okinawan-Bolivian dekasegi migrants in the area,
for the electricians were more relaxed and willing to talk openly about their
pasts, their current lives in Japan, and their future plans.
Although I told most of them about my status as a graduate student at a
United States university and my intention to write my tesis (dissertation) on
Colonia Okinawa and dekasegi migrants in Japan, I was not always able to make
a point of informing the Japanese Naichi-jin workers at the construction sites,
where opportunities for prolonged conversation were severely limited. My
Okinawan-Bolivian coworkers appeared less interested in my academic back-
ground and research objectives than in my experience as a Japanese-language
teacher who had lived in Colonia Okinawa for an extended period of time. Even
though my background gave me partial insider status among them, I was pri-
marily regarded as a Japanese citizen who possessed cultural and symbolic
capital in the larger Japanese society. My privilege as a Japaneseand Na-
ichi-jinbecame apparent in certain situations. For instance, while they talk-
ed mostly in Spanish among themselves, mixed with a number of standard
Japanese terms and phrases and a few Okinawan ones, the electricians seemed
to feel compelled to switch to standard Japanese, which they spoke fluently,
18 INTRODUCTION
even after they realized that I mostly understood their conversations in Span-
ish. They were also clearly uncomfortable reading and writing in Japanese, so
they often asked me to help them read road signs while we were driving to the
construction sites and to fill out the employment registration forms in Japanese
at the job sites. My interactions and conversations with my coworkers were,
therefore, inevitably affected by their ambivalent feelings toward me; they felt
they were superior to me as more experienced and skilled technicians yet infe-
rior to me as less privileged members of the Japanese society at large.
Other than accounts of the particular conditions in which these electri-
cians worked, my discussion of Okinawan-Bolivians dekasegi experiences in
Japan relies heavily on recollections by those living in Colonia Okinawa who
had returned from dekasegi in Japan. Given the considerable diversity among
Okinawan-Bolivians dekasegi experiences, resulting from their differences in
location of residence, workplace, gender, generation, age, and other factors in-
volved, I do not claim that my participant-observation at construction sites
along with T Denki electricians objectively and comprehensively captures the
dekasegi migrants work and life experiences in general. Instead, in this book I
try to present a glimpse of the migrants everyday work and lives in urban Japan
that configured their subject positions.
MODERN OKINAWAN
TRANSNATIONALITY:
COLONIALISM, DIASPORA,
AND RETURN
ern Bolivia from the 1950s to the 1970s, and Okinawan-Bolivians dekasegi
migration to Japan from the 1980s to the 1990s. These three distinct waves of
Okinawan and Okinawan-Bolivian migration reflect Okinawas colonial and
postcolonial relationships with Japan throughout the twentieth century and
the Okinawan diasporas shifting subject positions within those relationships.
Pre-1950s immigrants to Bolivia were part of a larger trend of Okinawan exo-
dus under the Japanese imperial rule of Okinawa. Issei who grew up in prewar
and wartime Okinawa were ambiguous Japanese national subjects until 1945
and then became nationlessneither Japanese nor Americansubjects un-
der the United States military occupation after 1945. For those Issei, the three
decades after immigration to Bolivia in the 1950s brought about a gradual
process of self-identifying simply as Japanese instead of as Okinawans. In the
1980s, limited employment opportunities in the mainstream Bolivian econ-
omy and a labor shortage in the manufacturing and construction industries
in Japan, along with Isseis anxiety about their childrens cultural assimilation
into rural Bolivian society, prompted the mass emigration of Nisei to urban
Japan.
Throughout the history of immigration, settlement, and dekasegi re-migra-
tion, Okinawan-Bolivians have been placed at the margins of what anthropol-
ogist Liisa Malkki (1995) calls the national order of things. To address the
marginal and often ambiguous nationalities that Okinawans and Okinawan-
Bolivians have been assigned, particularly in relation to Japanese Naichi-jin,
my discussion here does not regard Okinawans as a discretely bounded group
of individuals who can be objectively distinguished from Japanese Naichi-jin.
Instead, following Tomiyama Ichir, a historian of modern Okinawa and the
Okinawan diaspora, I view Okinawans not as a group of individuals who in-
nately possess discernible Okinawan culture and identity but as a discursive
category that has been assigned to those who were produced as Okinawans
in modern Japanese society (Tomiyama 1990, 3). As Nomura Kya, an Oki-
nawan sociologist, argues, the political and psychological violence of Japanese
colonialism from the late nineteenth century to 1945 constructed Okinawans
as those who are not Japanese (Nomura 2005, 4243). Thus, the history of
Okinawan and Okinawan-Bolivian migrations summarized in this chapter ex-
emplifies the ways in which the colonized subjects encountered and reacted to
the colonizing gaze (Pratt 1992) cast upon them, which created the racialized
categories of colonizers and colonized, rendering their differences as absolute
and natural.
24 CHAPTER ONE
1954, 474).11 In the 1890s, when automobile production in North America and
Europe dramatically increased, rubber became a highly desirable commodity
worldwide (Kunimoto 2000, 116). The rubber industry in the Bolivian Upper
Amazon, one of the few major rubber-producing areas in the world at the time,
was booming and attracting workers from around the world. During the peak
years of the rubber economy in the 1910s, some forty Okinawans worked in the
city of Riberalta and surrounding rainforest.12
After the international rubber market collapsed in the mid-1910s, most
Okinawans settled in cities like Riberalta, Trinidad, Oruro, and La Paz (Sat
1997, 22; Tigner 1954, 476). The number of Okinawans in Riberalta reached fif-
ty-five in 1930; among them only three were women (Shioiri 2000, 159; Tigner
1954, 475). The growth of the Okinawan population in Bolivia was very limited
after the peak of the rubber economy, and many Okinawan immigrants left
Bolivia altogether, leaving the Okinawan population before the 1950s relatively
small: the estimated Okinawan Issei population in 1952 was ninety-four (sev-
enty-four men and twenty-two women), with 220 Nisei (Tigner 1954, 471).13
The number of Naichi-jin immigrants also remained small during the same pe-
riod; the only increase came from the practice of yobiyose (summoning family
members, relatives, and friends from the homeland) by the immigrants already
living in Bolivia (Table 1).
While records of prewar Okinawan immigrants are scarce, available ac-
counts indicate that unlike Okinawan migrs in Hawaii or Micronesia, who
suffered discrimination by Naichi-jin (Sellek 2003, 7980) and formed, in
response, self-segregated Okinawan enclaves, the Okinawan immigrants in
Bolivia reportedly neither experienced conflicts with Naichi-jin immigrants
nor established exclusive communities apart from them. Business partnerships
NAICHI-JIN OKINAWANS
that not only new immigrants from Okinawa but also Okinawans from all over
Bolivia would join in the construction of the new village. One of the founding
members of the Uruma Society expressed his hope for the plan: For the pur-
pose of raising our successors in this country, this plan must be materialized
(Aniya 1995, 57). It is worth noting that most Uruma Society members, who
were eager to bring new Okinawan immigrants to Bolivia, were from Riberalta
and Santa Cruz rather than La Paz, the urban center where most of the pros-
perous Okinawans resided. Witnessing fellow Okinawan immigrants rapid as-
similation into Bolivian society and declining socioeconomic status, the con-
struction of an Okinawan village represented to them a means to regenerate
the fledgling ethnic communities. The postwar Okinawan immigration project
was, in this sense, conceived as the prewar Okinawan immigrants effort to
maintain racialized boundaries vis--vis non-Nikkei Bolivians, especially those
of rural and lower-class backgrounds.
December 1950, the military administration was renamed the United States
Civil Administration of the Ryky Islands (USCAR), which subsequently
founded the Government of the Ryky Islands (the Ryky government here-
after) in 1952. The Ryky government consisted of locally elected officials and
was in charge of the administrative and legislative functions of Okinawa but
was obliged to obey executive orders from USCAR, which also maintained the
right to nominate the governments head.18
With the memories of the oppressive dka (cultural and linguistic assimila-
tion) policies by the Japanese government in the preceding years and the Impe-
rial Armys violence against Okinawan civilians during the Battle of Okinawa
still vivid, many Okinawans initially welcomed governance by the United States.
Their hopes for a better future, however, quickly dissipated as the United States
government showed little interest in protecting Okinawans rights. Unlike the
Japanese government, which had adopted Okinawa as a child of the Japa-
nese family state, the United States government had no intention of annexing
Okinawa or legally naturalizing and culturally Americanizing Okinawans. The
United States governments main goal in Okinawa was, after all, to provide
a stable environment for the construction of military bases (Yoshimi 2003,
442).19
Many local Okinawans, with few employment opportunities in the war-
torn islands, worked at the military facilities, but they were paid substantially
lower wages than the legal minimum wage set by the Ryky governments
labor laws. Without legal protection under the United States or Japanese con-
stitution, local Okinawan workers were not allowed collective bargaining, and
those who protested or disobeyed USCARs orders were accused of being com-
munists and often arrested on civil disturbance charges (Oguma 1998, 504,
474476).20 As Okinawans became increasingly pessimistic about their future
in Okinawa under United States rule, many looked for a way to leave Okinawa
to improve their lives. Many Issei in Colonia Okinawa were among those who
had once worked unhappily for the United States military and sought emi-
gration as a way to escape. Responding to a survey conducted by Okinawan
researchers, approximately 10 percent of Issei cited their dislike of living under
United States occupation, especially of working for the military, as a primary
reason for their decision to emigrate (Nakayama et al. 1986, 45).21
Okinawans frustration grew further as the United States military began
expanding the bases on the island in the wake of the Korean War in June 1950.
In April 1953, USCAR released the Compulsory Land Expropriation Order,
which permitted the military to remove Okinawan residents and to seize their
MODERN OKINAWAN TRANSNATIONALITY 31
land regardless of the landowners will. By the end of 1953, United States bases
occupied 14 percent of the entire main island, or 42 percent of the islands
farmland (shiro 1992, 99).22 Postwar Okinawas job and land shortages were
further compounded by the mass return of Okinawans from the former oversea
territories of imperial Japan. Immediately after the war, all Japanese civilians,
including approximately 100,000 Okinawansnearly one-third of the prefec-
tures total population at the timein Japans overseas territories were ordered
by the United States to return to Japan (JICA Okinawa 1985, 44). Those who
returned to Okinawa, a total of 56,900, without farmland or employment had
no choice but to take service jobs on the United States military bases. It was
no surprise that a survey by the Ryky government revealed that the majority
of the returnees from former Japanese colonies expressed their wish to re-em-
igrate overseas (Sellek 2003, 86). Those who immigrated to Colonia Okinawa
were among those who were eager to re-emigrate. Nearly one-third of Issei in
Colonia Okinawa had once lived outside Okinawa or the Japanese mainland,
and among them, three-fourths were returnees from former Japanese colonies,
such as Taiwan, Micronesia, and Manchuria (Nakayama et al. 1986, 3132).
During my own fieldwork, I also encountered a number of Issei who had spent
their childhood or adolescence in Nany (Southern Sea, a Japanese term for
Micronesia)for example, Saipan and Palauand Manchuria, and found the
return to devastated and crowded Okinawa after the war very difficult. An Issei
interviewee told me why he applied for the emigration project after a number
of attempts to emigrate during the war:
Okinawan returnees from the former colonies of imperial Japan who viewed
overseas migration as a chance to escape from the confinement of Okinawa
waited impatiently for an opportunity (see Ishiki 1995; Amemiya 1999c).
USCAR and the Ryky government, who were well aware of Okinawans
growing frustration with the land shortage, unemployment or underemploy-
ment, and their legal status as second-class citizens, considered a sponsored
emigration project as a possible solution, which they also believed might pre-
vent communism from spreading in the islands. They sent James L. Tigner of
the Hoover Institute and Library at Stanford University to numerous Latin
American countries in search of a possible destination for the Okinawan emi-
grants. Tigner and Paul H. Skuse, the chief of the Public Safety Division of
USCAR, explained the value of the project:
it was afraid of causing waves in its bilateral relationship with the United
States. The Japanese government nonetheless continued to claim vaguely
defined residual sovereignty over the Okinawans in Bolivia and was afraid
that a failed Colonia Okinawa project might damage Japans international
reputation (Tamashiro 1979, 96). The lack of legal citizenship troubled the
Okinawans in Bolivia as it had back in Okinawa before the migration. An Issei
interviewee, who immigrated to Bolivia in 1954, told me that when he and his
friends traveled to So Paulo, Brazil, they were detained at the airport, because,
according to the immigration official, their certificates were issued by neither
the Japanese nor the American government. He bitterly recalled how unhelp-
ful the Japanese embassy in So Paulo was and how helpless he felt as a citi-
zen of no country.27 To meet the communitys basic needs, such as securing a
water supply and maintaining roads in and around the village, officials from the
Ryky government had to negotiate with the Bolivian and the United States
governments as well as with many international agencies to improve the Oki-
nawan settlers welfare (Ij 1987). The Okinawan settlers had hoped that the
Japanese government would recognize them as its citizens and provide them
with legal protection and technical, financial, and administrative assistance
(Oshimoto 1970, 71).28
Even though the Okinawan settlers desired Japanese legal citizenship in
hopes of obtaining assistance from the Japanese government, the communitys
detachment from Naichi-jin and the Japanese government allowed the settlers
a certain psychological freedom. Unlike the Okinawan immigrants elsewhere
who organized a Lifestyle Reform Movement, those in Colonia Okinawa did
not feel compelled to assimilate themselves into mainland Japanese culture,
however it was defined.29 Issei recalled that although they learned standard
Japanese in school when they grew up in Okinawa before immigrating to Bo-
livia, they hardly used it in Bolivia during the early settlement years, while
those who had immigrated from Okinawas off-lying islands or rural villages
on the northern main island (Hont) remembered that they had to get used to
the standard Okinawan language, which is used in the Shuri area of Hont,
because this language became the common means of communication among
the settlers. In addition to language, the settlers maintained a variety of cus-
toms and arts from their ancestral villages in Okinawa. The second anniversary
of the foundation of Colonia Okinawa in 1958,30 for instance, was celebrated
with village theater (murashibai), plays based on a variety of local folktales of
villages across Okinawa, Okinawan classical dance (Ryky buy), and sanshin
recitals, all performed by the settlers themselves (Ij 1987, 254). Some Issei
MODERN OKINAWAN TRANSNATIONALITY 37
from Japanthe newcomers were simply Japanese in their eyes, and what
mattered to them was that those Japanese were patrones who employed tra-
bajadores, or laborers.
(estimated)
The cotton boom in Colonia Okinawa, and Santa Cruz Prefecture in general,
had significant demographic consequences. In 1974, 34,000 peasants from the
altiplano were brought to work on cotton farms as pickers in the lowland area,
and more than half reportedly have stayed (Stearman 1985, 36). Many cotton
pickers in Colonia Okinawa also stayed in the area after the boom economy
abruptly ended in the mid-1970s, realizing that they could take advantage of
plentiful year-round employment opportunities on the Okinawan settlers
farms (Mori 1998b, 42). As a result of these economic and demographic chang-
es, Okinawan settlers in Colonia Okinawa turned themselves into large-scale
commercial farm owners, who, after their short-lived cotton production, grew
wheat, sorghum, and, more recently, soy and sunflowers.
To some Issei, the influx of the new immigrants from the altiplano, locally
referred to as kolla, presented a potential challenge to the majority status of
Okinawan-Bolivians in the village, and their anxiety over the kolla influx was
further fueled by the stereotype associated with the group.38 Owing to the
centuries-old political divide between the highland and lowland regions and
the purported racial differences between highlanders and lowlanders, there
was deep distrust and antagonism between camba and kolla, exhibited in vari-
ous stereotypes the groups projected on each other. Camba claimed that kolla
might be hard workers but were untrustworthy, dirty, shrewd, and culturally
backward, while kolla could be heard to say that camba were lazy, drunken, and
roguish (Mori 1998b, 59; Stearman 1985, 208).39 The Okinawan settlers also
adopted the local ethnic stereotypes (lazy but easygoing camba and hard-
working but shrewd kolla). The very reason that kolla were brought to Colonia
Okinawa in the 1970s was their supposedly superior work ethic. A CAICO offi-
cial, who was in charge of recruiting the kolla cotton pickers, stated that camba
were not suited for work that requires patience and attention to details, while
kolla were more hardworking and meticulous (Gushiken 1998, 96).
The stereotypes of the kolla newcomers also made some Okinawan set-
tlers nervous. An Issei interviewee expressed his view of kolla, in contrast with
camba and those whom he called whites (hakujin) in the Bolivian lowland:
People from the mountains [kolla] are punctual, while camba always
say [they will do an assigned task] maana [tomorrow]. Wherever
you have a hot climate all year and foods are always available, people
are easygoing, whereas people who live in cold climates and harsh
environments work hard. All kolla can do math, so they dont get
duped by whites [i.e., farm owners], but people of Santa Cruz [camba]
42 CHAPTER ONE
are simpleand not educated, so they are easily ripped off by whites
[hakujin]. The whites want to hire those who can do math, but some
patrones dont like to hire smart ones. The smart ones may help you,
but they may also do something bad to you.40
agriculture was also apparent in the amount of land they had under production.
In 1996, Okinawan-Bolivian farmers owned 26,856 hectares of soybean fields,
which was 6 percent of the entire soybean farmland of the nation, and 9,750
hectares of wheat farmland, or 7 percent of the national total (Nomura Eisaku
1998, 20; CAICO 1996). Despite this apparent prosperity during the 1980s and
1990s, the era also witnessed a steady population decrease due to Niseis deka-
segi migration to Japan.41
My Okinawan-Bolivian interviewees generally agreed that the peak years
of dekasegi migration to Japan were in the second half of the 1980s. After the
mid-1990s, they claimed, more people returned to the Colonia than left it.
The available statistics seem to support this impression. It was estimated that
approximately four hundred Okinawan-Bolivians left for dekasegi to Japan
from the mid-1980s to the early 1990s, before the numbers decreased in the
mid-1990s. The Okinawan-Bolivian population in Colonia Okinawa actually
increased, albeit slowly, in the second half of the 1990s, while out-migration
still continued. Since 1995, the total Okinawan-Bolivian population in Colo-
nia Okinawa has been consistently around 800 to 850, and population changes
have remained small.42 The most significant demographic consequence of the
dekasegi migration in the 1990s was the absence of young Nisei residents in
their twenties and the thirties. In 2000, more than half of the Okinawan-Boliv-
ian Nisei between the ages of eighteen and thirty resided in Japan after having
left Colonia Okinawa. When I attended a ceremony to celebrate new adults in
Colonia Okinawa in January 2001, only one of seven Nisei who would become
twenty-years old was present, while the rest were listed as currently living in
Japan and thus unable to attend.
Okinawan-Bolivians dekasegi migration was, at the macro level, shaped
Emigration to Japan
44 CHAPTER ONE
by the capitalist world system (Wallerstein 1974), which has created and
maintained a structural linkage between the sending country (Bolivia) of pe-
ripheral blocs and the receiving country (Japan) of core blocs of the global
economy (Portes and Walton 1981; Sassen 1988; Glick Schiller et al. 1992).
Domestic and regional factors also help us understand why Japan, among many
core nation-states, was chosen by the Okinawan-Bolivians as their migra-
tory destination, why the migration persisted after the initial causal factors had
become insignificant, and why the migrants came from certain socioeconomic
backgrounds (Castles and Miller 1998; Grasmuck and Pesar 1991; Parreas
2001). Sociologist Wayne Cornelius (1998) claims that transnational migration
often becomes structurally embedded in the local socioeconomic systems of
the sending and receiving communities, and migration flows tend to persist
regardless of the initiating factors. For those migrants, migration becomes so-
cialized and normalized (Yamanaka and Iwanise Koga 1996) as they create
and strengthen transnational institutions and connections between their mi-
gratory origin and destination (Chavez 1988; Glick Schiller et al. 1995; Margo-
lis 1994; Rouse 1991).
A crucial factor in Okinawan-Bolivians dekasegi migration to Japan was
the Japanese governments nationality law (kokuseki-h), which allows the sec-
ond-generation offspring of Japanese immigrants overseas to obtain Japanese
citizenship and a passport. Nisei, as well as Issei, faced no legal obstacle to
traveling to and working in Japan. Once the dekasegi migration to Japan be-
came a sustained trend in the late 1980s and 1990s, it became structurally em-
bedded and socially normalized, creating what Douglass Massay et al. called a
culture of migration. As dekasegi migration has grown prevalent, it has be-
come deeply ingrained into the repertoire of peoples behaviors, and values
rural population and women, were mostly exhausted, leaving little room for
further significant increases in the labor supply. In 1989, it was reported that 46
percent of the companies in the manufacturing sector were suffering from labor
shortages, and small-scale subcontractors in manufacturing and construction
became so desperate that they began to employ illegal (i.e., without the proper
visa) foreign workers from places such as Pakistan, Iran, and Bangladesh (Tsu-
da 1999; Yamanaka 1993). What attracted these foreign workers to Japan was
the upward revaluation of the Japanese yen after the Plaza Agreement in 1985,
which dramatically raised the relative value of Japanese wages.
It was against this backdrop of economic chaos in Bolivia and booming
economy in Japan that several Issei from Colonia Okinawa decided to migrate
to Japan in 1982, which created small Okinawan-Bolivian communities in Yo-
kohama and other cities in Kanagawa Prefecture. Upon their arrival, these first
dekasegi migrants called phone numbers from job advertisement flyers, even-
tually landing assembly plant jobs at an auto manufacturer in Tochigi Prefec-
ture. Their hard work at the factory impressed their employer, and they were
asked to recruit friends from Bolivia (Ikuno 2000, 295).45 From this first group
of dekasegi Okinawan-Bolivians in Tochigi, some moved to Kanagawa Prefec-
ture, for example, to the Tsurumi Ward of Yokohama, around 1987. Since then,
Tsurumi has become a major destination for dekasegi migrants from Colo-
nia Okinawa. One interviewee in Colonia Okinawa jokingly called it Dai-yon
Ijchi (Colonia No. 4).46
Those who migrated to Japan in the early 1980s were mostly middle-aged
wage earners or small-scale farmers who could not generate enough cash in-
come. They left their families back in Colonia Okinawa and intended to work
in Japan and send remittances to Bolivia for several years (Tsujimoto 1998c;
Ikuno 2000, 295). Mr. Yara Hiroki, an Issei who immigrated to Colonia Okina-
wa in 1958, was among the pioneers. Mr. Yara had owned a small farm, but he
had also worked at the Colonias agricultural cooperative to support his large
family of eleven. His farming operation suffered from poor production in the
early 1980s, and hyperinflation aggravated his familys financial woes. Selling
his farmland and going to Japan, it seemed to him, was the only choice: Even
my family understood why I had to go to dekasegi. My wife was not working,
so my entire family [in Colonia Okinawa] was dependent upon my remittances
from Japan. . . . All I had on my mind back then was how to survive the crisis
my family was in, rather than what I would do in the future. I knew it was
impossible to move my entire family to Japan, so I went there alone. He left
Bolivia in 1982 and first worked in Saitama Prefecture, because his uncle and
MODERN OKINAWAN TRANSNATIONALITY 47
aunt, who had moved from Okinawa Prefecture, lived there. He then moved
to Hiratsuka City in Kanagawa Prefecture to work on the assembly line of a
Nissan Motor subcontractor. He was the only Okinawan-Bolivian at his work-
place and had few acquaintances in the area: There were still very few of us
who went to dekasegi back then, but it began to increase after I returned here
[in 1985]. He decided to return to Bolivia when he turned forty-five years old:
Normally, good companies only hire those under forty-five. I could still find a
job, but if I got paid only 170,000 or 180,000 yen a month, it would be very diffi-
cult to get by, let alone to send remittances. Thanks to the money he had saved
during his dekasegi stint in Japan, Mr. Yara managed to pay off his debt. After
his return to Bolivia, he took various clerical jobs in Colonia Okinawa and did
not purchase new farmland. Despite the low wage he earned at these jobs, he
never considered going back to Japan because he thought that he was too old.
For him, dekasegi was only a means to cope with [financial] emergency.
the manufacturing and construction industries has remained high and chronic
(Tsuda 1999, 695; Tsujimoto 1998c, 315). In fact, while Japanese companies
have tried to restructure (risutora in Japanese) their employment practices
as a cost-cutting measure, relatively cheap and expendable wage laborers, in-
cluding Okinawan-Bolivians, have become an even more valuable source of
flexible labor (Tsuda 1999, 696). As a result, despite the gradually increasing
unemployment rate and stagnant consumer demand throughout the 1990s, Ja-
pans recession did not eliminate the labor shortage in the manufacturing and
construction industries.
The local economic situation of Okinawan-Bolivians in Colonia Okinawa
that prompted and facilitated dekasegi emigration in the 1980s, including the
weak Bolivian currency and the sluggish labor market, did not change after
1991. The prosperity of Okinawan-Bolivian farm owners was already in ques-
tion by the second half of the 1990s, owing to the widespread recession in East
Asia that reduced the global demand for imported food and the influx of cheap
North American products into the South American market, which dramatical-
ly lowered the sale price of soybeans (Higa 2000, 259). To make matters worse,
the flooding of the Rio Grande River in early 1997 damaged 5,000 hectares of
farmland in Colonia Okinawa, causing more than US$1 million in damage to
Okinawan-Bolivian farmers properties (Gushiken 1998, 320). Because of the
volatile global agricultural market and unpredictable local weather of Santa
Cruz Prefecture, in addition to the capital-intensive and large-scale format,
Okinawan-Bolivians farming operations became a gamble that could create
a large fortune or a large loss in any given year (Tsujimoto 1999, 13).
Okinawan-Bolivians high-risk and high-return farming operations often
resulted in a large amount of debt. A report by JICA in 1994 showed that their
average debt was 10,097,000 yen, or US$99,777 (JICA 1994). Because of the
high interest rates of commercial banks in Bolivia (16 percent to 18 percent
APR in 2000), most Okinawan-Bolivian farm owners relied on lower-interest
loans offered by JICA and CAICO.50 CAICO implemented a barter system
through which a member could take a loan from the cooperative and pay it
back with his own crops shipped directly to CAICO upon harvest. The amount
loaned to each farmer was determined by CAICO based on the sales price
of each product to local buyers.51 I had a chance to see a CAICO members
transaction record for February and March in 1993. The record indicated that
he had paid for diesel fuel purchased from CAICO and shipping costs for his
harvest, while making payments with his harvest, such as soy seeds, to the
cooperative. His debt actually increased, however, by the end of the statement
MODERN OKINAWAN TRANSNATIONALITY 51
period, largely because of the loan interest from the previous term and seed
purchases for the next production cycle. He additionally requested the maxi-
mum possible loan from the cooperative for the projected 200 hectares of his
farmland, which he intended to use for soybean production (CAICO 1993).
Admittedly this was the record of only one farmer for a very brief period, but
it gives a glimpse of how difficult debt payments could be for some Okinawan-
Bolivian farm owners.
Not surprisingly, delayed payment by CAICO members was a major prob-
lem. Rumors within the community often revolved around which farmers were
in serious debt. Even children, housewives, and elderly women I met told me
about the debt crises of other farmers. One day at school, a second-grade girl
surprised me by candidly telling me that her friends family had a huge debt
and therefore the whole family, including her friend, had left for Japan a few
months before. A Nisei housewife of a farm owner told me, albeit jokingly, My
husband was saying, Well, soon we will probably have to flee by night [because
of his debt], so be ready. Shinj Yoshi, an Issei in her seventies, lamented over
the settlers debt problem:
stints, if he would go to Japan again in the future, he said. I really dont want to,
but who knows? If it becomes necessary, I will have to, wont I? Although the
term dekasegi implies the temporality and brevity of the migration, Okinawan-
Bolivian migration to Japan and return-migration to Bolivia have become a
continuing and open-ended process for some that might never really end.
The colonial and postcolonial pasts of Okinawa and the Okinawan diaspora
have cast a long shadow on the history of Okinawan immigration to Bolivia
and Okinawan-Bolivians dekasegi migration to Japan. The history of prewar
and postwar Okinawan immigration to Bolivia reveals how Okinawans, under
the rule of imperial Japan and the postwar occupation by the United States
military, were constantly made and remade as ambiguous national subjects.
Emigrating overseas was often viewed by Okinawans as a way to escape the
stigma of being not quite legitimate national subjects. While many Okinawan
immigrants overseas continued to suffer from their marginal status within Jap-
anese immigrant communities, Okinawans in Bolivia in the prewar and post-
war years largely escaped similar difficulties thanks partly to the small presence
of Naichi-jin immigrant communities and their influences.
The Okinawan emigration project in the 1950s, such as that to Bolivia, was
conceived as the United States military administrations solution to diffuse so-
cial unrest among the increasingly disgruntled Okinawans under U.S. military
rule. Once they migrated, these Okinawans were shaped into Japanese na-
tional subjects within the local ethno-racial and class dynamics of rural Bolivia,
because self-identifying and being identified as foreigners was considered ad-
vantageous, and locals did not distinguish Okinawans from Naichi-jin Japanese.
As Okinawan-Bolivians in Colonia Okinawa transformed themselves from
subsistence farmers to capital- and labor-intensive commercial farm owners,
they also became vulnerable to unpredictable global agricultural markets and
prone to accumulating large debts. Moreover, as more struggling Okinawan
settlers left and more non-Nikkei Bolivians have moved in since the 1970s,
Okinawan-Bolivians have become a numerical minority group in Colonia Oki-
nawa. These changes made Okinawan-Bolivians increasingly concerned about
protecting what they perceived as the endangered Japanesenessnot the
Okinawannessof their ethnic community in rural Bolivia.
Although the primary reasons for Okinawan-Bolivians dekasegi migra-
tion in the 1980s and 1990s were economic, one cannot dismiss Isseis concern
about the communitys decreasing Japaneseness as a key contributing factor
for Nisei migration to Japan. It partly explains why, despite the collapse of the
MODERN OKINAWAN TRANSNATIONALITY 53
Japanese bubble economy in the early 1990s, the flow of dekasegi migration
never ceased, much less reversed itself. By the mid-1990s, dekasegi migra-
tion from Colonia Okinawa to Japan had become structurally embedded in
the existing socioeconomic systems at the local and extralocal levels. While
the Japanese manufacturing and construction industries became chronically
dependent on expendable and inexpensive (often imported) laborers, capital-
intensive farming in Colonia Okinawa became a risky enterprise, given the un-
stable local weather and the unpredictable global agricultural market.
The transnational Okinawan-Bolivian communities and households, built
through these historical processes, presented different implications for Oki-
nawan-Bolivian individuals in Colonia Okinawa and in urban Japan. The next
three chapters will detail how Okinawan-Bolivians subject positions were
shaped within the webs of local and global political economies, state and non-
state institutions, and Okinawan-Bolivian individuals own daily practices,
which together contributed to a differently embodied belonging in each of the
two locales.
[2]
large corporate office complexes. After crossing six lanes of National Route 15
and the Tsurumi River that parallels it, I entered the Nakadri-Ushioda neigh-
borhoods, where hundreds of South American Nikkei-jin, including many
Okinawan-Bolivians, resided. Instead of the fashionable boutiques, chain res-
taurants, and office buildings that surrounded Tsurumi station, an ensemble
of small factories, mom-and-pop grocery stores, and several Okinawan and
South American restaurants became noticeable, making me realize that this
was not only a working-class neighborhood, but also an immigrant enclave.
These visible signs of Okinawan-Bolivians economic and social status in
Colonia Okinawa and Tsurumi are the subject of my inquiries in this chapter
and the following chapter. I zero in on the labor market and the workplace as
critical sites of racialization (Cornell and Hartmann 1998, 154) in which Oki-
nawan-Bolivians ambiguous belonging in Colonia Okinawa and urban Japan
were embodied and performed. In detailing the class positions and workplace
relationships of Okinawan-Bolivians and their non-Nikkei Bolivian and Japa-
nese Naichi-jin coworkers, I render the social processes of codification, repre-
sentation, and interpretation of Okinawan-Bolivians bodies and behaviors as a
natural embodiment of their socioeconomic status and cultural backgrounds.
In this chapter on Okinawan-Bolivians in Colonia Okinawa, I sketch the labor
market structures in Bolivia and interventions by state institutions, such as
JICA and the government of Okinawa Prefecture, both of which played critical
roles in shaping Okinawan-Bolivians subject positions,1 and portray everyday
encounters between Okinawan-Bolivians and non-Nikkei Bolivians and Japa-
nese Naichi-jin at their workplaces, such as farm fields and cattle ranches, in
Colonia Okinawa. Okinawan-Bolivians contradictory class positions in the
rural Colonia Okinawa community and in the larger (urban) Bolivian society
56 CHAPTER TWO
dence in Okinawa Dos and Trs in 2000 and 2001, I saw very few non-Nikkei
Bolivians near the centro areas of Okinawa Dos and Trs, except for those who
were employees of Okinawan-Bolivian patrones and lived on their property.
In 1996, the average Okinawan-Bolivian households net farming profit
was 2,779,000 yen (US$27,461), and net nonfarming income was 519,000 yen
(US$5,130), which combined for a net income of 3,298,000 yen (US$32,590).
Agriculture in Colonia Okinawa was capital intensive and highly mechanized:
Okinawan-Bolivian farmers owned an average of three tractors, one combine
(harvester) machine, two automobiles, and three other machines, including
grass-cutters and pesticide and herbicide sprayers (JICA 1996, 37). There was
significant income variation among Okinawan-Bolivian farmers (see Table 4),
and the average farmer had debt that was worth approximately a quarter of
his assets.3 Nevertheless, the contrast with non-Nikkei Bolivians in Colonia
Okinawa was stark.
The majority of non-Nikkei Bolivians were landless farm laborers or wage
500 8 8.1
5001,000 15 15.2
1,0001,500 12 12.1
1,5002,000 9 9.1
2,0002,500 9 9.1
2,5003,000 10 10.1
3,0003,500 2 2.0
3,50010,000 34 34.3
the Okinawa Hospitals operating budget in 1997, including staff salaries and
maintenance costs for medical equipment, was provided by JICA, through
Nichibo Kykai (Nichibo Kykai 1998a, 17). For the community school in Co-
lonia Uno, 22 percent of the entire revenue came from JICAs direct assistance
and Nichibo Kykai expenditure, which was also originally provided by JICA.
(See Table 5.)
In addition to assistance for these community institutions, Okinawan-Bo-
livian farmers have repeatedly received aid from Japanese state agencies when
natural disasters caused serious damage to the farmers assets. In early 1992,
for example, a flood of the Rio Pailn River, which runs through the west end
table 5. Major facilities that received funding from JICA, the Japanese government,
or Okinawa Prefecture for construction and/or administration
in the 1950s, it was not uncommon for one land lot to have multiple legal title
holders (Higa 2000, 251). The situation was compounded by Article 77 of the
Agrarian Reform Law of 1953, which granted any individual land entitlement
if he or she had cultivated, or intended to cultivate, the unused land as farm-
land, even if he or she did not officially possess its legal title. In 1964 and 1965,
Okinawan-Bolivian leaders attempted to settle the dispute by returning 750
hectares and 1,550 hectares, respectively, to the alleged former landowners,
but the problem continued into the 1970s, forcing Okinawan-Bolivians to give
up more than 10,000 hectares to non-Nikkei Bolivians.
Kuniyoshi Hidehiko, an Issei in his forties, told me that Malvinas, the name
of the township near Okinawa Trs, was derived from the Malvinas (Falkland)
War between the United Kingdom and Argentina in 1982. In the same year, a
large number of non-Nikkei Bolivian squatters, who formed a peasants union
called Villa Barrientos, came to this area and opened up their own farmland,
despite the legal land title possessed by Okinawan-Bolivians. A bitter legal dis-
pute broke out: We used to say, We are having a war here, too, Mr. Kuni-
yoshi recalled. After their unsuccessful efforts to reclaim the land through an
open hearing and inspection by a delegate from the Bolivian government, the
Okinawan-Bolivians turned to the Japanese government. CAICO and Nichibo
Kykai pressured the Japanese general consul and ambassador to persuade
the Bolivian government, President Paz Estenssoro in particular, to intervene.
The dispute was tentatively resolved by a presidential executive order in 1985,
which secured Okinawan-Bolivians landownership; Mr. Kuniyoshis farmland
was also returned by this measure.
About a decade later, a non-Nikkei Bolivian man claimed 500 hectares of
Taira Hiroshis property in 1994, and both appeared to have legal land title of
the disputed lot. This time, action by the Okinawan-Bolivian community was
swift. The president of Nichibo Kykai sent a letter to the Japanese Embassy
in La Paz, in which he wrote, This [land invasion] problem jeopardizes not
only the property of Mr. Taira [who is a former Nichibo Kykai president and
a prominent Issei leader], but also the social rights of all Japanese residents in
Bolivia (Gushiken 1995). After two years of negotiation by Nichibo Kykai
with the Japanese Embassy, the Japanese ambassador to Bolivia brought the
Nichibo Kykai petition to the attention of the minister of foreign affairs of
Japan. In October 1996, the foreign minister of Japan raised the issue when
President Sanchez de Lozada and the minister of foreign affairs of Bolivia
made an official visit to Japan. According to Mr. Taira, the foreign minister
of Japan implied a possible cut or end of Japans ODA for Bolivia, and the
62 CHAPTER TWO
belongedto the rural upper class in Colonia Okinawa yet were unable to main-
tain their socioeconomic privileges outside the confinement of the Colonia
comprised the majority of dekasegi emigrants to urban Japan. Yara Hiroyasu,
a Nisei, joined the dekasegi fad of the late 1980s and left for Japan in 1986 and
then returned to Bolivia in 1990. He saved some money and entered a universi-
ty in Santa Cruz de la Sierra upon his return, majoring in information science.
He did not complete his degree after spending all the money he had saved, and
he started his own small business in 1996. The business did not go well, so he
had to leave for Japan again in 1998. Although Hiroyasu was reluctant to go
back to Japan, his father, Hiroki, had another idea. When Hiroyasu consulted
his father about whether he should stay in Bolivia or go to Japan, Hiroki told
his son he should move to Japan permanently. He explained: He didnt have
a foothold in Bolivia, so it was safer to live in Japan. There is no safety net in
Bolivia, so the weak cannot survive here. In addition, he claimed, in urban
Bolivia, Okinawan-Bolivians could not compete with Bolivians. He believed
that having Japanese citizenship was a handicap when many non-Nikkei Boliv-
ian applicants were also competing for a position because the employer would
choose a Bolivian over a Japanese candidate.
Tokuma Shun is a Nisei who went to Japan for dekasegi in 1983 after study-
ing for a year at a strike-prone university. Born the second son of one of the
most successful farm owners, Mr. Tokuma made three dekasegi stints in Japan
between 1983 and 1995. He and his elder brother, Masaru, took turns look-
ing after their aging fathers farming operation in Colonia Okinawa while one
of them was living and working in Japan. After his third dekasegi stint in Ja-
pan, Mr. Tokuma hoped that his two young sons would choose careers outside
farming and become urban professionals:
to help Nisei succeed outside the insular immigrant community, because they
could no longer benefit from the Japanese governments support.6 While their
Japaneseness underwrote the Okinawan-Bolivians power and privilege with-
in Colonia Okinawa, in other words, it was of little value outside the immediate
environs of the village.
was located far from home. Some farmers candidly told me that their day-to-
day work was easy. While showing me the personal golf practice cage in his
backyard, Takara Masahide, a farm and cattle ranch owner in his forties said,
Some people say they are busy farming, but they must have much spare time.
I mean, there just isnt much work to do.
To provide a glimpse of the patrn-trabajador relationship, I present here
an excerpt from my fieldnotes describing a typical day of an Okinawan-Bolivian
farm owner during the nonharvest period. Kuniyoshi Hidehiko was in his mid-
forties and had a wife and three boys, fourteen, nine, and eight years of age. He
and his wife were both born in Okinawa but immigrated to Bolivia before they
began kindergarten. Mr. Kuniyoshi had three fields within Colonia Okinawa.
One lot, of only four hectares, was next to his house; another, of 227 hectares,
was located in the submunicipality called San Marcos; the largest lot, of 245
hectares, was in Malvinas submunicipality, ten miles from his house. In the
San Marcos field, he used most of the land for soybean production, while he
diversified production in the Malvinas field for corn, soybeans, and sorghum.
Mr. Kuniyoshis property, approximately 480 hectares, was slightly larger than
that of the average Okinawan-Bolivian farm owner.
February 2001
Mr. and Mrs. Kuniyoshi got up around 6:30. The first task of Mrs.
Kuniyoshi was to prepare lunch boxes for two boys who go to school,
Colegio Nueva Esperanza, in Okinawa Dos. The two boys, third and
fourth graders, reluctantly got up around seven oclock and had a
quick breakfast of bread and powdered milk as they watched childrens
TV shows on a local Santa Cruz channel. Mrs. Kuniyoshi, meanwhile,
offered coffee to Mr. Kuniyoshis employee (a non-Nikkei Bolivian) at
a dining table set on the front patio. Until the school bus came by the
front of the house around 7:40 a.m., the boys sat with him, chatting
in Spanish. A few non-Nikkei Bolivian men came to the front patio
and asked Mr. Kuniyoshi if there was any work in his field today. Mr.
Kuniyoshi gave the days orders to the leader, the non-Nikkei Bolivian
among them who had worked for him the longest. He would gather
the necessary number of workers, all of whom Mr. Kuniyoshi already
knew. Occasionally, those non-Nikkei Bolivian employees who lived
in the Kuniyoshi familys old house next to their pigpens came by and
asked for specific directions regarding the care of the hogs.
The Making of Patrones Japonesas 67
After the children left for school, Mr. and Mrs. Kuniyoshi finally had
their breakfast in the dining room around 8 a.m., normally coffee and
bread with fried egg and sliced ham. Throughout this busy morning,
their TV was always on, normally showing news programs, which
daily featured the ongoing drought in Santa Cruz Prefecture. As they
watched the shows, Mr. and Mrs. Kuniyoshi talked about how much
and in which part of Colonia Okinawa it had rained a day before.
Around 9:00 a.m., we drove to his San Marcos field. Mr. Kuni-
yoshi was concerned about the lack of rain. His farm hadnt had much
rain for more than a month. As we inspected the two soybean fields,
the land was cracked all over because of the drought. The soybeans,
however, still looked green, and there were very few visibly damaged
plants. Mr. Kuniyoshi told me: They are still recoverable. But if we
dont have any substantial rain in the next few weeks, Ill be in trouble.
He also concluded that the soybeans that he had planted in Janu-
ary, which still were in bloom, would need pesticide and germicide.
Mr. Kuniyoshi said: I am just waiting until the next rain before I do
it. Right now they are weak because of the lack of rain, so they wont
be able to absorb the chemical very much. One non-Nikkei Bolivian
Normalization of Exploitation
Except for busy periods of sowing and harvesting, Mr. Kuniyoshi told me, he
rarely operated farm machines in his fields. When his farm was smaller, he
said, he used to operate all the machines, but he no longer did. It was efficient
to use cheap labor for all the routine tasks. On any given day, there were five
to ten workers in Mr. Kuniyoshis fields. Basic field tasks, such as plowing and
weeding, paid a worker 30 bolivianos, or US$5, a day, while more technically
sophisticated tasks, such as operating a tractor, counted for 1.5 days, paying 45
bolivianos a day, or US$7.50. During busy periods, such as those for harvest-
ing and sowing, they could earn more. For instance, when they worked until
10:00 p.m. harvesting, they received 1.5 days pay. On average, each worker
earned thirty to forty days pay per month, between 1,000 and 1,200 bolivianos
(US$166 to US$200), typical for workers on Okinawan-Bolivian-owned farms.7
Mrs. Kuniyoshi kept a notebook in which she recorded the workers days and
hours of work. About ten persons were regular workers at Mr. Kuniyoshis
70 CHAPTER TWO
farms, while the rest were employed on a temporary basis, being brought in by
the regular workers during busy spells.
In addition to their low wage, non-Nikkei Bolivian field laborers often
worked in hazardous working conditions. One morning, Mr. Kuniyoshi and I
stopped by his Malvinas farmland, where one of his employees was spraying
herbicide. He told Mr. Kuniyoshi that he had finished spraying the assigned
area and told him that he would empty the tank, because he needed the same
machine to spray another kind of chemical the next day. After a brief chat with
him, Mr. Kuniyoshi and I returned to his pickup truck, and he said to me, You
can smell the chemical from here, cant you? There was indeed a foul odor. I
said: That smells awful! Isnt it poisonous? Mr. Kuniyoshi replied: Oh, yeah.
Very poisonous. Remembering that his employee did not appear to be pro-
tected from such a poisonous chemical, I asked him, Shouldnt he wear a mask
or something? Mr. Kuniyoshi shrugged. Well, yeah, actually he should. But
instead I rotate the operator of the spraying machine [to avoid poisoning]. . . .
When we were producing cotton [in the 1970s], I used to spray pesticide and
herbicide by myself. But it made me very nauseated, so I wouldnt do it myself
anymore.
Workers were rotated every few months, partly to spread the tasks (such
as spraying poisonous pesticide) to more workers and partly to reduce the risk
of collective work sabotage. A large pool of available labor enabled Okinawan-
Bolivian farmers to change their employees frequently. On two separate oc-
casions, Mr. Kuniyoshi of Colonia Trs and Mr. Takara of Colonia Uno, while
they drove me around their fields, acknowledged a number of their former or
current non-Nikkei Bolivian employees. In Malvinas, where the majority of
Mr. Kuniyoshis employees lived, he told me, I know practically everyone here,
because I have employed pretty much all of them at least once. Mr. Takara,
likewise, while driving through a small village next to his farmland, told me,
Everybody is my friend here, waving his hand at a young non-Nikkei Bolivian
man on the street.
Although they insisted they had cordial relationships with non-Nikkei Bo-
livian laborers, it was the Okinawan-Bolivian employers, not the non-Nikkei
Bolivians, who had the power to rotate their workforce. Tsukamoto Hideo em-
ployed three non-Nikkei Bolivians for his cattle ranch and house for six days a
week, from eight to five. Their days task was assigned each morning, depend-
ing on Mr. Tsukamotos needs, including lawn mowing, cutting grass along the
fences, uprooting and planting trees in the garden, or mending fences on his
ranch. I ran into the three non-Nikkei Bolivians just outside the house when
The Making of Patrones Japonesas 71
they were about to leave. When I asked what they thought of their job, they
reluctantly told me that it was good (Es bueno), and they liked the stable wage
that they received for the job. Having seen me talking with Mr. Tsukamoto,
they probably wouldnt disclose their feelings toward their employer, but they
told me that they didnt expect to work for him for long. In fact, a few days
before, Mr. Tsukamoto had fired one of his employees. According to Mr. Tsu-
kamoto, the worker had refused to show up for work fifteen minutes earlier in
the morning. Mr. Tsukamoto said: It takes ten to fifteen minutes to drive to
the ranch. When I told them that they must come earlier, he said no. So I fired
him.
To be sure, exploiting laborers who handle menial tasks, maintaining a clear
division of labor between employers and employees, and rotating labor sources
were labor practices not limited to the Okinawan-Bolivian patrones but wide-
ly found in the Bolivian lowland, where there was a long history of the finca
(large-scale agricultural establishments) system (Stearman 1985). Within the
social fabric of Colonia Okinawa, however, these practices enabled Okinawan-
Bolivian patrones to view the boundary between employers and workers as be-
ing drawn not only between socioeconomic classes, but also between national
origins. I asked Mr. Takara why no Okinawan-Bolivian patrn employed other
Okinawan-Bolivians for farm labor, even though some Okinawan-Bolivians
were in serious financial trouble and might be willing to work for others in
Colonia Okinawa. He looked at me in disbelief and flatly denied the possibility:
No way will anybody employ Japanese [Nikkei] on his farm! It would be too
complicated for him to use a Japanesehow much to pay him, which work to
make him do, that sort of thing. It is just much easier to use Bolivians. To him,
the class and labor divisions between Okinawan-Bolivians and non-Nikkei
Bolivians in Colonia Okinawa were so normalized that being an Okinawan-
Bolivian meant being an upper-class patrn who used non-Nikkei Bolivians
as trabajadores.
often provided their employees with food, clothing, and medical care at the
employers expense (Mori 1998b, 60). These practices were neither new in low-
land Bolivia nor unique to the relationship between Okinawan-Bolivians and
non-Nikkei Bolivians. In the nineteenth century, some finca owners in Santa
Cruz provided their peones, or farm laborers, with housing, education, and
medical attention (Stearman 1985, 29). The farm owners benevolent actions
toward their laborers could be, however, understood as an exercise of symbolic
power, the gentle, invisible form of violence, which [was] never recognized
as such (Bourdieu 1977, 191). In an analysis of plantations in the U.S. South,
historian Eugene Genovese defines paternalism more blatantly, claiming that
it grew out of the necessity to discipline and morally justify a system of ex-
ploitation as it created a tendency for the subordinates to identify with their
employers/masters as individuals rather than as a class (1976, 4, 6). Okinawan-
Bolivian patrones, who provided trabajadores and their family members with
much informal and personal assistance, therefore, also exercised a form of
symbolic violence (Bourdieu 1977, 165) against their workers, establishing a
prevailing ethos (Genovese 1976, 6) under which non-Nikkei Bolivians had to
accept the unequal relationships with their Okinawan-Bolivian employers as
legitimate and even natural.
The non-Nikkei Bolivian workers on the Kuniyoshis farm, many of whom
lived near the Kuniyoshis residence, came to the house to purchase food such
as potatoes, bread, rice, and carrots. Because the workers didnt have vehicles
to travel to markets or stores in the cities, they relied upon the Kuniyoshis, who
sold the workers the daily necessities at market price. The Kuniyoshis stored
huge sacks of rice, onions, carrots, and coca leaves, a stock of canned meat,
cooking oil, and bags of flour and salt in their house as if it was a grocery store.
Mr. Kuniyoshi drove to a market in Santa Cruz de la Sierra once a week, usu-
ally on Friday, to purchase various vegetables and dry foods. Mrs. Kuniyoshi
told me, [Knowing that my husband goes shopping on Fridays] many people
come here to buy food on Saturday mornings. She was in charge of these retail
transactions, not only recording purchases by each employees family members
but also giving her husband a grocery list before he went shopping.
It was common for Okinawan-Bolivian patrones to provide lunch, and
sometimes breakfast and supper, for their laborers. Mrs. Kuniyoshi was ex-
tremely busy preparing the laborers meals during the soybean harvest period
in March, when they needed to work overtime. The workers at Mr. Kuniyoshis
farm always had a cup of coffee in the morning, served by Mrs. Kuniyoshi,
before Mr. Kuniyoshi gave them the work orders for the day, and occasionally
The Making of Patrones Japonesas 73
they ate a lunch prepared by Mrs. Kuniyoshi at the table on the front patio.8
When Mr. Kuniyoshi stopped by his farms in the morning to check the work of
his trabajadores, he also delivered the lunch boxes that his wife had prepared
in the early morning.
Many Okinawan-Bolivian patrones also paid for their employees and their
family members medical care. Mr. Takara, for instance, employed eight non-
Nikkei Bolivian farm laborers who lived in a nearby village. He paid his em-
ployees weekly, rather than daily, because, he said, They would otherwise use
all the money right away. When his employees or their family members be-
came ill, he took them to the hospital for treatment: If I dont, they would go
to a small clinic [poste], because it is cheap. It costs only 5 or 10 bolivianos, but
it would not really help them. Mr. Takara, therefore, paid all the medical bills
for them: They cant pay for it, you know, so I feel sorry for them. According
to the Colonia Okinawa Hospitals records in 1997, nine Okinawan-Bolivians
paid for the treatment of twenty-two non-Nikkei Bolivians, who had made
thirty-six visits to the hospital (Nichibo Kykai 1998a, 11).
Thanks to this informal and personal assistance, non-Nikkei Bolivian labor-
ers appeared to favor benevolent Okinawan-Bolivian employers over other
non-Nikkei Bolivian ones (Mori 1998b, 60), but the Okinawan-Bolivian pa-
trones paternalism toward their trabajadores also masked the fundamentally
exploitative relationship between them. As a result, both Okinawan-Bolivian
patrones and non-Nikkei Bolivian trabajadores came to pay less attention to
their profoundly unequal structural positions than to alleged differences be-
tween generous Okinawan-Bolivian employers and tightfisted non-Nikkei Bo-
livian employers.
The paternalistic relationships established between Okinawan-Bolivian pa-
trones and non-Nikkei Bolivian trabajadores notwithstanding, there was also
what James Scott called everyday forms of resistance (1985, 1990), a subtle
and informal means for the weak to challenge the power of the dominant. The
non-Nikkei Bolivians subversive activities might not have been overt and con-
frontational but still could achieve a certain amount of symbolic and/or mate-
rial gain amidst the exploitative labor relations and even heighten the aware-
ness of social inequality among themselves (Rose 1997, 153).
A common means of resistance by non-Nikkei Bolivian laborers was theft
of farming equipment and other valuable materials, such as pesticides, from
their Okinawan-Bolivian employers. Not unlike African American slaves
looting of their absentee owners properties (Genovese 1976, 382; Scott 1990,
195), non-Nikkei Bolivian laborers took advantage of the frequent absence of
74 CHAPTER TWO
Such tactics by employees can easily be overlooked unless the farm own-
ers persistently monitor employees work on a daily basis, something many
Okinawan-Bolivian employers were not attentive enough to do. Even though
low-paid non-Nikkei Bolivian farm laborers might be economically exploited
and symbolically dominated by their Okinawan-Bolivian employers, through
low wages and paternalistic treatment that naturalizes the power inequality
between them, the same workers might informally challenge the exploitation
and domination through deception and stealing. Although everyday workplace
interactions might appear cordial and businesslike, and Okinawan-Bolivian
farm owners might indeed treat their non-Nikkei Bolivian employees more
kindly than other non-Nikkei Bolivian patrones, underneath the calm surface a
struggle between the two groups for material and symbolic power often played
out in informal ways.9
Racialized Categories
In conversations with Okinawan-Bolivians, I always had to be attentive to the
meaning of the phrase koko no hito. Literally meaning people [or a person]
here, koko no hito could refer to non-Nikkei Bolivians in general, camba, the
residents of Colonia Okinawa as a whole, Okinawan-Bolivians, or Bolivian citi-
zens in general. The fluid and situational definitions of people here indicates
that the subject positions of Okinawan-Bolivians were defined in opposition to
The Making of Patrones Japonesas 75
a series of Others in given social contexts. When people here referred to non-
Nikkei Bolivian populations in Colonia Okinawa or Bolivian society in general,
the following three terms were most commonly used: genchi-jin (locals), Bo-
ribiajin (Bolivians), and hakujin (whites). Less frequently, gaijin (foreigner) and
dojin or dojin (aboriginal) were used to refer to non-Nikkei Bolivians, mostly
by Issei elders. The stereotypes the Okinawan-Bolivians attached to the cat-
egories of genchi-jin, Boribiajin, and hakujin indicated their understanding of
the socioeconomic class structures and political power dynamics both within
Colonia Okinawa and in the larger Bolivian society, and their own subject posi-
tions within them.
to as genchi-jin, but instead were called coreanos and chinos, respectively. Ok-
inawan-Bolivians, even Nisei, did not call themselves genchi-jin, even if the
person was locally born and had never left Bolivia in his or her life.10 Frequent
use of this term by Okinawan-Bolivians to refer to non-Nikkei Bolivians in Co-
lonia Okinawa suggests that Okinawan-Bolivians did not believe that the other
genchi-jin population and they belonged in the same local community.
The ways in which Okinawan-Bolivians used genchi-jin and Boribiajin in-
dicate different, albeit subtle, socioeconomic meanings attached to the two
terms. While Boribiajin could include both upper- and lower-class groups of
non-Nikkei Bolivians, genchi-jin primarily referred to manual laborers. For in-
stance, although genchi-jin and Boribiajin were almost interchangeably used
by Okinawan-Bolivians to refer to the trabajadores on their farms or ranches,
non-Nikkei Bolivian teachers at the schools were normally called Boribiajin
teachers and less frequently referred to as genchi-jin. Likewise, non-Nikkei
Bolivian engineers and mechanics at CAICO and Nichibo Kykai, who worked
side by side with Okinawan-Bolivian employees, were more often referred to
as Boribiajin than as genchi-jin. In addition, genchi-jin was used to describe
all non-Nikkei Bolivians in Colonia Okinawa, even if they were not originally
from Colonia Okinawa but from the western altiplano or the central valley.
Despite the literal reference to locality, therefore, the term genchi-jin indicates
Okinawan-Bolivians views of the intertwined relationships between socioeco-
nomic classes, nationalities, and immediate local belongings.
Various stereotypes were projected onto the labels of genchi-jin and Boribi-
ajin by Okinawan-Bolivians. Through these stereotypes, Okinawan-Bolivians
interpreted and explicated the socioeconomic differences between non-Nikkei
Bolivians and Okinawan-Bolivians as trabajadores and patrones. Okinawan-
Bolivians views on non-Nikkei Bolivians reflected not only their sense of supe-
riority to them but also their anxiety over them as an overwhelming majority in
the village. These two sides of stereotyping were articulated by historian David
Roediger (1991) and postcolonial theorist Homi Bhabha (1994) as common
features found in the discourses of racism and colonialism. Roediger argued
that in the late nineteenth century United States, white working-classs rac-
ism against African Americans was simultaneously loathing of and fascination
with what they perceived as the carefree, lazy, and indulgent lifestyle of African
Americans. Bhabha similarly claimed that the colonizers projected split im-
ageries of their fantasy and fear upon the bodies of the colonized through ste-
reotypes. The bodies of the colonized represented contradictions: the incivility
of cannibal and dignified obedience, childlike innocence and rampant
The Making of Patrones Japonesas 77
sexuality (Bhabha 1994, 82). The similar split imageries were found in the
Okinawan-Bolivians depictions of non-Nikkei Bolivians: lazy, dependent,
simple-minded, yet disingenuous and shrewd.11 All of these stereotypes were,
in turn, inversions of the self-images of Okinawan-Bolivians as hardworking,
self-reliant, intelligent, but nave. These stereotypes reflected both Okinawan-
Bolivians disrespect of non-Nikkei Bolivians as a lower socioeconomic class
and envy of them as those without the burden of running a large and risky
farming enterprise.
People here [koko no ningen] could eat even if they were just playing
around. . . . Well, I think it used to be the case anyway. If you went
to the mountains [yama, meaning jungle], there were animals, if you
went to a river, there were fish, and if you planted yuca [cassava] and
bananas near your house, it would be enough [to feed yourself ]. Then,
in order to buy milk, sugar, and salt, and all the other stuff you needed
to live, you could work only two or three days a week.
In his narrative, the perceived laziness and laid-back attitude of local Borib-
iajin/genchi-jin were natural attributes born out of their genealogical heritage
and natural environment.
Okinawan-Bolivians often accused non-Nikkei Bolivians of economic
dependency on resourceful people and institutions, such as international
aid agencies. Takara Masahide, a middle-aged Issei farm owner, as he drove
through small communities near the Ro Grande river, told me that the houses
around there could easily go under water in case of flood. Nevertheless, he
78 CHAPTER TWO
Once Boribiajin become friends with you, they will steal things from you. They
are good talkers. . . . They take things away from you but never pay you for
them.
These Isseis accusations were not unfounded. As described earlier in this
chapter, many Okinawan-Bolivians suffered thefts of expensive herbicides and
pesticides by their non-Nikkei Bolivian employees. Anthropologist Dorinne
Kondo has suggested that despite academics tendency to romanticize informal
and crafty resistance by the weak against the dominant, these resistances are
often riven with ironies and contradictions (1990, 224). Stealing, a common
form of everyday resistance by non-Nikkei Bolivian laborers against wealthy
Okinawan-Bolivian farm owners, contradictorily reconfirmed the negative ste-
reotypes projected upon the laborers by Okinawan-Bolivians.
These stereotypes of untrustworthy and sneaky Boribiajin/genchi-jin nar-
rated by Okinawan-Bolivians were reflections of their self-image as trustwor-
thy and honest people. Higa Hiroshi, a Colonia resident, wrote that Okinawan-
Bolivian farmers were trusted by Bolivian commercial banks because they paid
all the accumulated debt after the collapse of cotton production in the 1970s,
whereas many non-Nikkei Bolivian cotton producers in the region fled with-
out paying off their debt (2000, 253). In reality, however, it was JICA and, by
extension, the Japanese government that assumed much of the responsibility
for Okinawan-Bolivians unpaid loans. During the hyperinflation in the mid-
1980s, Okinawan-Bolivians paid off their debt to JICA with vastly devalued
Bolivian pesos instead of U.S. dollars; in effect, JICA paid the price for the
peso devaluation (Gushiken 1998, 146). One could argue, therefore, that it was
the Japanese government that raised the reputation of Okinawan-Bolivians
among local creditors. State-sponsorship by the Japanese government was
as responsible for the trustworthiness of Okinawan-Bolivians as the groups
inherent character and morality, which they contrasted with the character of
non-Nikkei Bolivians.
Some [Nikkei] might look as if they have succeeded, but they have
been destroyed. Everybody has been crushed. Mr. K used to own a
Toyota dealership, but it went bankrupt in his sons era. . . . Mr. S was
also successful but eventually became bankrupt and returned to Japan.
. . . If these were hakujins companies, they wouldnt have gone bank-
rupt. Because they are a colored race [yshoku jinshu], they have
been ruthlessly destroyed. This country is a scary place. . . . No Nikkei-
jin is successful.
His definition of hakujin was not so much predicated on their skin color or
European heritage per se as on their power as business elites in a larger Boliv-
ian society. He defined hakujin by the amount of economic, social, and cultural
capital he believed they possessed. Asked if he socialized with non-Nikkei Bo-
livians in Colonia Okinawa, he cited the different levels (reberu) of social
status between non-Nikkei Bolivians, himself, and urban Bolivian elites: In
the environment of the Colonia, there arent many Bolivians I could socialize
The Making of Patrones Japonesas 81
with. Those who live in the Colonia are lower class [kas kaiky], the kind of
folks who shit on the roadside. I cant make friends with such people. In big
cities like Santa Cruz [de la Sierra], such a high-level [reberu no takai] place, I
might be able to make friends. . . . But in the Colonias environment, people are
proletariat class [rdsha kaiky], and thats not good.
Okinawan-Bolivians usage of the term hakujin appears to be in line with
the definition of blanco (white) in larger Bolivian society, as described by Marc
Osterweil as the upper-level social group who are urban and worldly (1998,
151). Either positively portrayed (sophisticated and influential) or negatively
regarded (cruel, racist, and disingenuous), hakujin were those upper-class ur-
ban Bolivians of, most likely, European heritage, whose political and economic
power allowed them to stand above not only poor rural Bolivians but also Oki-
nawan-Bolivians (and Nikkei in general). Hakujin, in other words, embodied
the unattainable socioeconomic privilege in larger Bolivian society in the eyes
of Okinawan-Bolivians, whose dominance was limited to a small rural domain
and agricultural sector of the economy.
Okinawan-Bolivians resentment against Bolivian hakujin elites and the
country dominated by them led them to generalize about Bolivians in gen-
eral, who, in their view, lacked essential qualities to run a country. For instance,
Mr. Kaneshiros criticism of hakujin, urban Bolivian elites, extended to the na-
tional character of Bolivians in general: Bolivia is a terrible country. Above
all, the soul [kokoro] of Bolivians, the national character [kokuminsei], is no
good. The Japanese kokoro and the Bolivian kokoro are different. The difference
is [Bolivians] extreme individualism, especially in the field of politics. . . . I
think the Japanese kokoro is much superior to the Bolivian one. In his narrative,
the alleged selfishness inherent in the hakujins soul was the main cause of
economic, political, and social problems in Bolivia, while Japans high interna-
tional standing was owed to what he viewed as the favorable national character
of its people.
The various stereotypes regarding innate characteristics of non-Nikkei
Bolivians mentioned by Okinawan-Bolivians reveal as much about their
understanding of their own socioeconomic positions in Bolivian society as
their views on non-Nikkei Bolivians. In their narratives, Okinawan-Bolivians
abundant socioeconomic power within the rural ethnic enclave and their lack
of such power outside it were interpreted and expressed through racialized
generalized and naturalizeddifferences between themselves and their non-
NikkeiBolivian Others, such as impoverished laborers in Colonia Okinawa and
wealthy elites in urban Bolivia. These racialized differences, in turn, provided
82 CHAPTER TWO
This chapter has examined not only structural macro-processes at the lo-
cal, national, and international levels that shaped the socioeconomic status of
Okinawan-Bolivians in Colonia Okinawa, but also their daily interactions with
non-Okinawan-Bolivians at their workplaces in which they defined, normal-
ized, and negotiated unequal positions in labor relations. The division of labor
between Okinawan-Bolivian patrones and non-Nikkei Bolivian trabajadores
was legitimized, though subtly challenged, by exploitative and paternalistic rela-
tions between the two groups. The different positions that Okinawan-Bolivians
and their non-Nikkei Bolivian Others occupied in socioeconomic structures
and labor markets in Bolivia were interpreted by Okinawan-Bolivians through
stereotyping, which oversimplified and essentialized the complex and hetero-
geneous structural conditions in which they were placed. These stereotypes,
which Okinawan-Bolivians formed through daily interactions with and obser-
vations of their non-Nikkei Bolivian laborers, deterministically explicated the
two groups subject positions, including their different socioeconomic status:
the behaviors and characters of each group were innate and unchanging, and
those were the reasons for their current socioeconomic status. The socioeco-
nomic status of Okinawan-Bolivians as large farm owners in rural Bolivia was,
in this way, understood and enacted in relation to racialized Others, such as
non-Nikkei Bolivian laborers in Colonia Okinawa and political and economic
elites in urban Bolivia. The next chapter will examine a similar process of sub-
ject positioning that Okinawan-Bolivian dekasegi migrants went through in
their workplaces in Yokohama and other Japanese cities. The major difference
between the two situations is, however, the much inferior socioeconomic sta-
tus that Nisei migrant workers occupied in urban Japan than they enjoyed in
rural Bolivia, where they were the offspring of affluent farm owners.
[3]
From Patrn to
Nikkei-jin ROdOsha :
Class Transformations
and in Bolivia at large, this chapter outlines the labor market structure in the
construction industry in Japan and locates the dekasegi migrant workers with-
in it. Ethnographic snapshots of the dekasegi workers working conditions at
construction sites, the physically demanding tasks they performed in a hazard-
ous environment, the spatial isolation (and autonomy) they maintained, and
the interactions among themselves and with other workers, such as Japanese
Naichi-jin and Nikkei-jin migrants from other South American countries, in-
dicate how their subject positions in Japan were shaped and experienced. The
dekasegi migrants frequently interpreted and performed their subject positions
within the larger economic structures and daily working situations in Japan
through racialized stereotyping of others and themselves. Their various nar-
ratives on their structural positions within the Japanese labor market and the
ways in which different groups of workers act and interact were reminiscent
of Isseis and Niseis racialized (overgeneralized and naturalized) explanations
of the labor relations between non-Nikkei Bolivian laborers and Okinawan-
Bolivian farm owners in Colonia Okinawa and of the economic structure of
Bolivia at large. These narratives, which naturalized and embodied socioeco-
nomic relations to their Others as manifestations of their essentialized cultural
(Bolivian, Latin American, Japanese, or Okinawan) Selves, in turn, continued
to shape their experiences in urban Japan as Nikkei-jin rdsha (laborers).
construction, or zene-kon, firms (Sano 1995, 324). When a zene-kon firm was
awarded a project by a client, the firm assumed the role of the designer and
overseer of the overall construction process. The zene-kon firm would appoint
specialized contractors for actual construction assignments, such as building a
steel frame, cement work, electrical installation, painting, and interior furnish-
ing. An electrical installation firm that was hired by a parent zene-kon firm
would then appoint several subcontractors who would actually send electri-
cians to the construction sites.
The subcontracting practiced in the electrical installation industry and
the construction industry in general was further classified into subcontract-
ing (ukeoi) and staffing (haken or ouen, which means supporting). Ukeoi is
an outsourcing practice through which a parent company allocates a cer-
tain amount of work to a subcontractor, which directs and supervises its own
employees. In contrast, haken is the placement of workers by a subcontrac-
tor to its parent company, which maintains control over the staffed (subcon-
tracted) workers at the work site. It is not uncommon that one construction
project creates four or five layers of parent-child subcontracting arrange-
ment (Tsujimoto 1999, 77).2 One construction project I worked on in August
2001 was overseenby the S Kensetsu zene-kon firm. For the projects electrical
Zene-kon
firm
(S Kenetsu)
Contractor
(F Denki)
Subcontractor (D Denki)
Sub-subcontractor (T Denki)
Financial Instability
The zene-kon firms cash-flow problem directly affected its subcontractors and
sub-subcontractors. As sub-subcontracted staff, T Denkis electricians often
suffered from delayed or unpaid wages. In return for staffing electricians, T
Denki typically received 18,000 yen (US$150) per person per day from its par-
ent firm, but the terms of payment were never clear to the T Denki employ-
ees. Shortly after I began working at T Denki, Kamikawa Kazuo, my coworker,
told me that I should negotiate with the T Denki president, Tonoshiro Masao,
about my wages because there was no fixed pay scale. T Denkis base wage
turned out to be 12,000 yen, or US$100, a day, and those who had work expe-
rience could make 15,000 to 16,000 yen a day. Although T Denki electricians
could theoretically make 350,000 to 400,000 yen (approximately US$2,900 to
US$3,300) each month, and, indeed, some of them told me they used to earn
as much, their monthly income was typically much smaller. As one T Denki
electrician told me:
The unpredictable and unreliable payment of wages created financial stress for
T Denki electricians. In late August 2001, as T Denki electricians were gather-
ing at Ushioda Park, their meeting place, before heading to their construction
site together, Tokashiki Oscar was trying to get hold of President Tonoshiro
to discuss his delayed wage payment. Soon, other T Denki electricians started
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From Patrn to Nikkei-jin Rodosha 87
Then, one by one, the T Denki electricians began discussing their own financial
woes:
When we found Mr. Tonoshiro, he told us that, he, too, had been unable to pay
his rent for the last two months. As a novice, I wasnt asked to join in the nego-
tiations with D Denki. Mr. Kamikawa told me about the meeting the next day:
We had to wait for hours to see the [D Denki] president. But eventually I got
some money for my rent and a little allowance money from him.
88 CHAPTER THREE
The construction firm estimated four hundred person days of labor, but it has
already cost seven hundred person days. Mr. Tonoshiro later confirmed it, as
he told us not to come to work until the current project was finished, because
T Denkis parent firm ordered him to keep novices like me from working for
the project to reduce labor costs. At one point in early September 2001, Mr.
Tonoshiro didnt know when there would be another project for any of his
employees.
On other occasions, there were sudden call-ups without prior notice. One
morning, around 7:20 a.m., Mr. Tonoshiro called my cell phone and asked me
if I could work that day, although he had told me the night before that there
wouldnt be any work for the next few days. Still half asleep, I said yes and asked
him where and when I should go. He asked me if I could get to Atsugi in central
Kanagawa Prefecture before 7:50 a.m. It was impossible to get there in thirty
minutes, so I told him that it would take more than an hour. He grumbled for a
while but backed off. Because of such irregular working hours, Mr. Kamikawa,
who had a wife and two school-age children, decided to leave T Denki and
had to find another job less than five months after his arrival in Japan.4 While
we waited for our coworkers at the meeting place on one of many frustrating
mornings, he told me, I cant keep doing this. My seora (wife) prepares a
lunch box for me every morning, expecting me to go to work.
Other Okinawan-Bolivians who worked in the manufacturing industry
were similarly frustrated with fluctuating wages and work schedules. Many re-
turnees from dekasegi in Japan whom I interviewed in Colonia Okinawa told
me that they had decided to return to Bolivia when their employers began to
delay paying their wages. In addition, since most factories paid their employees
hourly, the decreasing number of overtime hours was a serious blow to those
who worked in the manufacturing industry. For instance, Onaga Marco, who
worked for a gas company in Yokohama for fourteen years, decided to return
to Bolivia in 1996, after his companys business started to look shaky in 1993.
He was, at one point, earning approximately 420,000 yen a month, but later his
wages began to be delayed. When he finally quit the company, he claimed, the
firm owed him more than 900,000 yen in unpaid wages, and he didnt receive
the retirement pension benefit due all full-time employees.
August 2001
their early to mid-twenties. On the street next to the park, they were
sitting on the curb, looking at e-mail messages on their cell phone
screens. They chatted almost exclusively in Spanish, though there
wasnt much talk. Around 7:20 a.m., apparently enough members
showed up, and we got in vans without anyone giving a cue. The days
genba was a high school in the Khoku Ward of Yokohama, about a
twenty-minute drive from Tsurumi. We needed to drive two vans, in
which various tools and construction materials were crammed. We
needed to arrive at the site before eight oclock, when the morning
meeting, which all workers were supposed to attend, starts. From the
first day of my job, I was asked to drive one of the vans, because only
one other T Denki electrician had a Japanese drivers license. They told
me that before I joined one of them drove without a license. The van
was generally quiet in the morning; some munched on pastries they
had bought on the way to the park.
We arrived at the high school site late for the morning meeting.
The morning meeting at any construction site normally started with
rajio tais, or radio exercise, to warm up. All the workers lined up
according to their divisions (i.e., interior furnishing, equipment in-
stallment, electrical installations, and so on) and methodically and
precisely moved their limbs in unison to the tape-recorded music and
cues. Even when they arrived at the genba in time for the exercise, the
T Denki electricians tended to move uninterestedly through the mo-
tions. After the warm-up exercise, a project supervisor from S Ken-
setsu, a zene-kon firm, gave a briefing on the project, such as the load-
ing of the construction materials and the expected dates for the fire
marshals inspections. The meeting ended with the zene-kon supervi-
sors call to the workers, Lets work hard and safely today! (Ky mo
anzen-sagy de ganbar!), to which all the workers responded by rais-
ing their fist in accordance, yelling, Oh! This routine was followed at
all the other construction sites at which I worked.
The T Denki electricians wore worn-out sneakers and olive-
colored uniforms provided by D Denki, T Denkis parent firm. Only
Aniya Akira, who lived far from Tsurumi and took a train to I Park,
changed from his street clothes to the uniform in the van. They wore a
helmet that says D Denki and a tool belt, or koshi dgu, which typi-
cally held a few screwdrivers, a nipper, pliers, a wrench, a ratchet, a
flashlight, a scale, a cutter knife, an electric cord knife, and a balance
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From Patrn to Nikkei-jin Rodosha 93
scale. Some of us had more tools, depending on the days work. The
tool belt has an anzen-tai, an expandable safety band, with a large car-
abiner-like ring-hook at the end. The band prevents an electrician from
falling when he works high above the ground without a stable foothold.
Some were smoking cigarettes or drinking soda while Mr. Shi-
moda of F Denki, the firm that supervises all the electrical installation
projects, including those subcontracted by D Denki (and, therefore,
T Denki), spoke. He was giving the days work orders to Tomori Mi-
noru, Tamashiro Satoru, and Tokashiki Oscar, the most experienced
electricians at T Denki. After the meeting, Tamashiro gathered all the
T Denki staff and divided them into three groups, giving each one the
directions for the day in Japanese. Then, they entered the school build-
ing, which was already noisy and dusty. The days major tasks for T
Denki in the morning were
take a break. They came out of the building, sweating, and bought cans
of soda from a vending machine at the on-site office building. They
placed a bucket or their own helmets upside down to sit on. Mr. Shi-
moda of F Denki asked Tamashiro Satoru and Tomori Minoru about
their progress and whether they could finish the assigned tasks for
the day. T Denki electricians were quietly chatting among themselves,
in mixed Japanese and Spanish. Most were reading or typing e-mail
messages, in Spanish, on their cell phones. Uema Jos, who lived with
a Japanese girlfriend, called her. After a short chat in Japanese, he
turned to me and said: Well, we had a little fight last night. So I had to
make up with her.6
Around noon, all the workers took an hour-long lunch break. The
T Denki electricians formed small groups, not in any particular order,
and went to a nearby convenience store to buy lunch. With dirty work
outfits, they rarely went to restaurants for lunch, except at a site where
there was an employees cafeteria construction workers were allowed
to patronize. They settled in the shade next to the building, sitting on
flattened cardboard boxes. Tokashiki Oscar was sitting near me. He
was anxious to find out about his wifes delivery. As soon as he finished
his lunch, he picked up his cell phone and made an international call
to a hospital in Santa Cruz de la Sierra to talk to his parents-in-law.
Oscar found out that a baby girl had been born safely, and both the
baby and his wife were doing well. After finishing lunch, Uema Jos,
Aniya Akira, and Tokashiki Ken took out a soccer ball from the van
and started playing with it in the schools athletic field. Sometimes,
they played catch with a baseball and gloves. The rest of the T Denki
staff spread the cardboard boxes and lay down to take a short nap until
1:00 p.m., when work would resume. During lunchtime, Mr. Shimoda
of F Denki stopped by where T Denki electricians were, but only
Tamashiro Satoru and Tokashiki Oscar, who had known him from
other projects in the past, chatted with him.
The major task in the afternoon was cable installation, or cable
drawing (kburu hiki). The main electric cables were installed
through steel pipes or elastic plastic tubes. At least two people had to
work together to install the cables inside the pipe or tube. From one
end of the pipe or tube, one inserts a steel wire, or suchru, until its
tip reaches the other end of the pipe. Then his partner attaches the
end of the electric cable, called a head (atama), to the tip of the steel
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From Patrn to Nikkei-jin Rodosha 95
wire by tightly wrapping them up together with vinyl tape. The person
holding the steel wire at the other end of the pipe then begins pulling
while his partner pushes the other end of it into the pipe.
When it seemed that we wouldnt have to work overtime today,
Mr. Kamikawa said to me, Normally, work ends at the standard time
(5:30 p.m.). It used to end at 5:00, though, instead of 5:30. Even when
we have to work overtime, it is normally until 7:30 or so. This days
work ended around 5:30 p.m. Tamashiro Satoru again phoned other
T Denki staff in the building and told them to wrap up. At the on-
site office, Tamashiro filled out the days labor registration sheet. He
gestured to me to help him write the names of all the T Denki staff in
kanji (Chinese characters), which he was not comfortable doing. Mr.
Shimoda of F Denki was telling Tomori Minoru about the next days
projects and the estimated number of electricians to be provided by T
Denki.
On the way back to Tsurumi from the site, the T Denki van was
louder and more jubilant than it had been during the morning ride.
Tokashiki Oscar, who didnt have a drivers license, was driving the van
wildly, cursing in Spanish ( Mierda! [Shit!], Puta! [Whore!]). As
we approached I Park, the meeting place of the morning, they got out
of the van, one by one, near their homes. Those who needed to take a
train or who lived near Tsurumi station, including me, jumped off at
the station.
From this excerpt as well as the stories of Nisei who had worked in the manu-
facturing and construction sectors, three characteristics of their working ex-
periences stood out: first, they had to cope with physical discomfort in often
dangerous working environments; second, they struggled to gain a sense of
independence and control at their workplaces, which was unattainable within
the larger scheme of the hierarchical subcontracting system; and third, partly
owing to their effort to maintain their self-control and independence, they
largely avoided interacting with other Japanese Naichi-jin workers.
right? Be careful not to hurt yourself.7 Then he joked, I mean, you can fall
from a ladder, rooftop, or whatever, but just dont get injured [laugh]. None of
the T Denki electricians was injured at the construction sites during my field-
work, but I could see why construction work, such as electrical installation,
was considered a 3K job. Several tasks and certain conditions drew groans and
whines from my coworkers. One of the main tasks for electricians was power
cable installation, or kburu hiki, which sometimes required a whole day of
work in an underground pit. One day at the site, it was raining heavily when
Mr. Kamikawa and I struggled in a muddy underground pit to install a power
cable that seemed too thick to come through the preinstalled pipe. Our jackets
were soaked with sweat and rain, while our shoes were soggy from the muddy
water pouring into the pit. Our uniforms were a mess, and my whole body was
aching as we crawled out of the pit.
Another day, Tokashiki Oscar, Ken, and I spent the whole afternoon inside
the main underground pit of the construction site. The pit was approximately
two and a half meters (eight feet) deep, so we used a ladder to enter. Inside it
was dark, cool, and humid. We had to install the cables on a steel rack that was
already in place. The pit was divided into many cells by concrete walls, and each
wall had small holes with a diameter of only sixty centimeters (twenty-three
inches). The holes were so narrow that we had to crawl into and out of them
every time we moved to an adjacent cell. As we were setting up plastic pipes to
install electric cables, Oscar struggled with the erratic pipe in a small compart-
ment of the pit, while I was holding a flashlight to help him. Frustrated, Oscar
cried out, Aaahh! Why in the world did I become an electrician, having to
work in a place like this?
Sometimes, the working environment was hazardous to workers health.
Uema Jos, Tokashiki Oscar, and I worked in a recycling plant in Chiba City
in September 2001. The plant disassembled, broke down, and sorted discard-
ed home electronic appliances, such as TVs and refrigerators, into recyclable
plastic and glass pieces. The plant was large and spacious, but the air inside
the factory building was filled with plastic and metal dust. T Denkis parent
firm gave us Styrofoam masks to protect ourselves from inhaling the danger-
ous dust. It was difficult to perform our physically demanding tasks inside the
hot factory with the masks on, however, so soon we took them off. Before long,
we began coughing violently, and our faces and arms turned ash gray from the
dust within a few hours. We spent the whole morning installing a thick cable
on the high wall rack, approximately four meters (twelve feet) above the floor.
Since there were not enough footholds around the rack nor was there a safety
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From Patrn to Nikkei-jin Rodosha 97
net below us, we could only secure ourselves with the safety band locked to a
stem of the rack nearby.
The common narratives of Okinawan-Bolivians who had returned from
their dekasegi in Japan centered on how hard (kitsui) their working experiences
had been. Those who worked on factory assembly lines had much difficulty
with fast-paced work. Tokuma Shun, who worked at a truck assembly plant in
Tokyo, told me that he hated the fast pace of his work (not a kind of work any
human being should do). He quit the job after four months. When asked what
he remembered most about his life in Japan, he replied: I dont remember Ja-
pan very much. All I remember now was how hard the work was and how bad
[the working] conditions were.
While the fast pace of work was a main source of complaints from the Oki-
nawan-Bolivian migrants who worked on factory assembly lines, those who
had worked in the construction industry hated the physical strain and haz-
ardous environment of their work. Onaga Marco, who had worked for a gas
pipe installation firm for thirteen years before returning to Colonia Okinawa
in 1996, grimaced as he recalled his work: Especially during the summer, it
became very hot because all the heat was reflected on the asphalt surface of the
streets. It was so hot that sweat got into my eyes. When I used this [he gestures
handling a jackhammer], my arms went numb after a while. Even the next day,
my arms were aching badly. I really wanted to come home, but I had a goal [of
saving money to buy land and start farming in Colonia Okinawa], so I could gut
it out. Nomura Satoshi, whom I met in Colonia Okinawa in the winter of 1998,
left for Japan in January 1999 with his wife and two young children. He worked
for a construction firm in Hiratsuka City of Kanagawa Prefecture for two years
before returning to Bolivia in April 2001. I met him the day after he returned to
Colonia Okinawa and asked him about his work in Japan. He recalled: For the
first few months, it was really hard! I had to carry construction materials that
were so long and heavy. You need to carry them with your fingers like this [put-
ting his hands in front of his abdomen, showing his palms to me], not with your
arms or on your shoulders. I can carry heavy stuff on my shoulders, you know,
but just with fingers?! It was hard. By the end of the day, my fingers became
numb and couldnt move. Even though electrical installation was generally re-
garded by the T Denki electricians as less taxing than factory assembly line
work or other construction work, it was still quite exhausting and potentially
dangerous. As Tamashiro Satoru, a T Denki electrician in his early twenties,
told me more than once, electric installation was not the kind of work you do
until you turn fifty [years old].
98 CHAPTER THREE
Hey, you guys are having a yuntaku [chit-chat] again! It was a common sight
at construction sites for two T Denki workers to put their arms around each
others shoulders as they went back to their working locations from a break,
jubilantly chatting in standard Japanese mixed with Spanish terms and ex-
pressions.
Despite the norms that all workers must arrive at the construction site be-
fore the morning meetings, the T Denki electricians were often late for the
meeting, sometimes missing it entirely.9 The T Denki staff normally joined the
rest of the construction workers during the rajio tais of the morning meeting,
and they didnt seem to be upset even if they were to miss the whole meeting.
The consensus among them was that as long as they could begin their tasks
(approximately) on time, it should not be a problem. To most of them, who
were young, fit men in their twenties, mandatory warm-up routines like the
rajio tais to prevent injuries seemed unimportant.
Meanwhile, direct work orders by Naichi-jin Japanese supervisors were of-
ten viewed as a nuisance. One day, Tamashiro Satoru and Tomori Minoru went
to a different site as ouen (help) staff for D Denki from the project on which
the rest of T Denki electricians worked. The next day, Tamashiro rejoined the
rest of the T Denki staff and complained to Kamikawa Kazuo and me about his
previous days work. He called a Japanese Naichi-jin supervisor from D Denki
debu (fat, a derogatory term in Japanese) and criticized him for only giving
orders to Tamashiro and Tomori Minoru, while never working hard himself.
Tokashiki Ken also frequently complained to me about unreasonable orders
given by the Japanese Naichi-jin boss of the parent firm: Sometimes, we have
to draw the cables twice on exactly the same route. I felt like telling him, Then
just tell us to do all of them at once! Its stupid!
In addition to the independence they were allowed at construction sites,
the Okinawan-Bolivian electricians enjoyed frequent changes in projects and
the opportunity to acquire a wide variety of technical skills, which kept them
interested in their jobs and gave them a sense of power and personal growth.
Before becoming an electrician, Tokashiki Oscar had been an assembly line
worker in a factory, but he got bored after three months; after learning all
the skills required for the job, he felt, the work became a mere repetition. That
was one reason why he chose to become an electrician, because there were
many tasks for [him] to learn and improve [his] skills. When Aniya Akira
worked for a Japanese-owned electrical installation firm in Tokyo before join-
ing T Denki, he was ordered to do all the menial work, such as carrying steel
pipes and opening boxes of lighting equipment, but was never asked to take
100 CHAPTER THREE
I think I was able to see the underside [ura, meaning the hidden but
real inner truth] of Japanese society.11 I could see raw [nama no] Ja-
pan in the factory. For example, I realized there were vertical relation-
ships [tate no kankei, referring to hierarchical relationships between
managers and workers] and horizontal relationships [yoko no kankei,
referring to relationships between those at the same rank] in the com-
pany, which I had never felt in South America. Among my coworkers,
there were many Nisei and Sansei from Brazil and Argentina. Those
who were in higher positions in the factory were all Japanese, but
those who were working on the [assembly] line were all South Ameri-
cans [i.e., Nikkei-jin].12 We spoke Spanish among ourselves but spoke
in Japanese to bosses. But the only time we had to actually talk was
during breaks.
worked alongside with Japanese Naichi-jin in urban Japan. When the dekasegi
returnees in Colonia Okinawa recollected their working experiences in Japan,
they frequently shared with me what they learned about Japanese Naichi-jin
behaviors and characteristics, in contrast with what they had previously be-
lieved. Some of their preconceptions were confirmed, others rebutted, but
what appeared to remain consistent in their narratives was their essentializa-
tions and naturalizations of the national character and behavior patterns of
Japanese Naichi-jin as a whole in contrast with those of Bolivians or South
Americans, which often included themselves.
Although they appeared to have carried over the racialized understanding
that they had become accustomed to applying in labor relations in Colonia
Okinawa to labor relations in Japanese cities, the drastic class transformations
Nisei underwent as dekasegi migrants, from children of affluent farm own-
ers in rural Bolivia to sub-subcontracted laborers and assembly line workers
in urban Japan, helped Nisei dekasegi migrants challenge their Issei parents
racialized characterizations of Japanese people and their culture (in contrast
to non-Nikkei Bolivians and their culture). Furthermore, even as their char-
acterizations of themselves and their Others in urban Japan, such as Nihonjin
(native-born Japanese Naichi-jin), other South American Nikkei-jin (primarily
from Brazil and Peru), and Okinawans (from Okinawa Prefecture), were often
filled with stereotypes, they occasionally alluded to the disparities in political
and economic power between Japan and Bolivia (South America) and Naichi
and Okinawa as underlying factors for shaping these groups characters and
behaviors. The stereotyping narratives and practices that essentialized and
naturalized the differences among Nihonjin, Nikkei-jin, and Okinawans por-
trayed below are, then, less an indication of their unsophisticated understand-
ing of Japanese socioeconomic structures and their own positions within them
than evidence of their continuing recognition and application of the racialized
boundaries they had learned in Colonia Okinawa.
while we still live in Japan. . . . Sometimes our work at genba was done
around 3:00 p.m., and then some Nihonjin would say, Its all right. Just
make yourself look busy by sweeping the floor with a broom or some-
thing. . . . Nihonjin who had worked the same job for ten or twenty
years took [frequent] breaks, calling it task-waiting [shigoto machi].
They could do things like that only in Japan! I was thinking, Hey, be-
cause of these [lazy] guys, the projects go into the red.
Like Mr. Nomura, even when the dekasegi returnees in Colonia Okinawa
detailed how difficult and dangerous their jobs had been in Japan, they tended
to emphasize how tough and resilient they were, unlike Japanese Naichi-jin.
Onaga Marco, another Nisei returnee from a long dekasegi stint in Yokohama,
after explaining to me how hard it was to work for a gas pipe installation firm,
added, There is no way that Nihonjin could do that kind of work. . . . I had to
teach some [Nihonjin] rookies how to do the work, like how to use a jackham-
mer. Do you know how hard it is to use one? Your arms get numb after a while.
These guys just couldnt handle it. They wouldnt stick around for very long; it
was just too hard for them.
While these comments on Naichi-jin Japanese coworkers bring to mind
the ways in which Okinawan-Bolivians in Colonia Okinawa referred to the
ancestral origins of non-Nikkei Bolivians and themselves as primary reasons
for their different work ethics, they also indicate that the dekasegi migrants
were astutely aware of the economic power differential between Japan and
Bolivia, against which they observed (stereotyped) different attitudes toward
work between Japanese Naichi-jin and themselves. The dekasegi migrants felt
both jealousy and a sense of superiority toward Naichi-jin Japanese, who, the
migrants believed, could afford to be lackadaisical about work thanks to the
strong economic foundation of the country into which the Naichi-jin Japanese
had happened to be born.
sanity (1983, 113). Uemas tall tales about the insane life in Bolivia as well
as his hypersexualized portrayals of Bolivian and Brazilian women could also
be viewed as an attempt to gain power and authority over Japanese Naichi-jin
coworkers and supervisors at construction sites by appealing to their mascu-
line ethostough and reckless machismo and mastery over women, which
were celebrated among blue-collar workers (Willis 1977, 104)even if these
stories might further solidify stereotypes about Bolivian society and culture.
wouldnt be able to work for good, he begged me to stay. He even offered a par-
tial stipend for my apartment rent. Many other dekasegi returnees in Colonia
Okinawa told me similar stories; their Naichi-jin Japanese employers trusted
the migrants so much that they pleaded with the employees to stay. By ap-
proximating the subject positions of Nihonjin, rather than South American
Nikkei-jin, often through passing as Okinawans from Okinawa Prefecture,
the migrants gained not only practical benefits in finding jobs and apartments,
but also a psychological wage (see Roediger 1991), a sense of superiority over
other South American Nikkei-jin migrants in Japan.
Okinawan-Bolivian dekasegi migrants attempts to disguise themselves as
domestic Okinawans did not mean that the migrants had close relationships
with other Okinawans at their workplaces or in the neighborhoods in which
they lived. When asked about other Okinawans in the area (the Nakadri-
Ushioda neighborhood) where he lived, Tomonaga Hiroshi said, I know there
are many Okinawan people who live and work around here, but we dont hang
out with them. Kchi Takashi, a Nisei who had lived and worked in Tsurumi
from 1983 to 1995, claimed that domestic Okinawans had a bad reputation
among Naichi-jin Japanese: Okinawans often drink too much and talk too
loud until late at night. So real estate brokers in Tsurumi often turned down
inquiries from Okinawan clients. A friend of mine [from Colonia Okinawa]
who lived in Tsurumi had warned me that I should not tell them that I am Oki-
nawan. But I had forgotten the advice, so I was turned down by all the agencies.
. . . I finally had to use an Okinawan real estate broker to find a place to live.
. . . It was later, after many more South Americans [i.e., Nikkei-jin] moved into
the neighborhood, that pretending to be from Okinawa [Prefecture] actually
helped us.14
Okinawan-Bolivian dekasegi migrants, it appeared, did not self-identify as
domestic Okinawans to assert their ancestral roots or a sense of kinship with
the domestic Okinawan diaspora on the Japanese mainland but instead did so
to make themselves appear less foreign and threatening to Naichi-jin Japanese
and thereby to make their lives in Japan less inconvenient. For Nisei dekasegi
migrants who had grown up as children of patrones japonesas, rather than pa-
trones okinawenses, within the race-class relations of Colonia Okinawa, making
a clear distinction between Okinawan and (generic) Japanese identity catego-
ries was not as important as managing the boundaries between Japanese and
Bolivian (South American) ones. For Okinawan-Bolivian dekasegi migrants in
Japan, therefore, the Okinawan identity category functioned as a mediating
device for reconciling the two highly racialized categories of Japanese and
_ _
From Patrn to Nikkei-jin Rodosha 111
For Nisei who had grown up as children of affluent farm owners who em-
ployed inexpensive laborers for their business, the transition to working as
manual laborers in the highly stratified construction and manufacturing in-
dustries in urban Japan was a dramatic decline in socioeconomic status, even
if they earned more money. Nisei dekasegi migrants dealt with this contradic-
tory class mobility (Parreas 2001, 3) by detailing both the structural limi-
tations that the migrants faced in urban Japans labor market and their daily
interactions, or lack thereof, with Naichi-jin Japanese supervisors and cowork-
ers at their workplaces, where the migrants engaged in grueling tasks in often
dangerous and unhealthy environments.
Facing this dramatic transition in class mobility, Nisei dekasegi migrants
reexamined their racialized stereotypes of Japanese (Nihonjin) in opposition
to those of Bolivians (Boribiajin), both of which the migrants had learned
back in Colonia Okinawa. Drawn from their observations of Japanese work-
places and interactions with Naichi-jin Japanese coworkers and supervisors
there, Nisei dekasegi migrants reconfirmed or altered the contents of these
racialized categories of Nihonjin and Boribiajin. However, the Nisei dekasegi
migrants rarely challenged these racialized categories themselves; instead, they
projected their own versions of essentialized and naturalized Japanese and
Bolivian/South American characters and behaviors through their observa-
tions at Japanese workplaces.
In their workplaces in urban Japan, Okinawan-Bolivian dekasegi migrants
were saddled with stereotyped behavioral and psychological characteristics
of South Americans/Bolivians as opposed to Japanese; Japanese Naichi-jin
supervisors and coworkers interpreted what they considered unusual about
Nisei dekasegi migrant workers as a natural manifestation of their Bolivian
(South American) upbringing. These essentialized characterizations of Oki-
nawan-Bolivian dekasegi migrants by Naichi-jin Japanese supervisors helped
shape racialized distinctions between the Japanese Self and the Bolivian (South
American) Other, while downplaying, or being oblivious to, the migrants vul-
nerable positions within the Japanese labor market as semiliterate if verbally
fluent workers with no educational credentials in Japanese society.
112 CHAPTER THREE
Educating Good
Nikkei and Okinawan
Subjects
children of the farm laborers they employed. And that mixed classrooms with
non-Nikkei Bolivian students were lowering their childrens learning ability
(gakuryoku) (Nichibo Kykai 1985, 2). Furthermore, as the student population
increased, the operational costs of the school also rose, which increased the
financial burden on Okinawan-Bolivian parents. Okinawan-Bolivian parents
pooled money to pay extra compensation for teachers and to help the school
purchase and maintain equipment, but the parents of non-Nikkei Bolivian stu-
dents were unable or unwilling to contribute financially to the school, because
they assumed it was their employers responsibility to pay for the education of
employees children (Mori 1998a, 109).
In addition to a lack of public funding, Okinawan-Bolivian settlers had dif-
ficulty attracting and retaining qualified teachers, who did not want to be as-
signed to underequipped and understaffed schools in rural areas (Kunimoto
1986). As labor conditions and teachers salaries worsened during the nation-
wide hyperinflation of the 1980s, strikes frequently paralyzed Colegio Evan-
gelica Metodista. These conditions generated heated debate among Issei on the
future of school education in Colonia Okinawa, especially after tests conducted
by a group of Japanese scholars in schools in Colonia Okinawa and elite private
schools in Santa Cruz de la Sierra revealed that Okinawan-Bolivian students
performed considerably worse than wealthy non-Nikkei Bolivian students in
private schools in the city (Mitsuhashi 1983).
Issei leaders addressed this concern in 1987 by founding a new private
school, pooling money and constructing facilities in the centro of Colonia Uno.
The Okinawa Numero Uno Japanese-Bolivian School, for elementary (five
years) and intermediate (three years) education, accepted both Okinawan-Bo-
livian and non-Nikkei Bolivian children but set its tuition high.2 A 1985 round-
table discussion concluded: A Nichibo Kykairun private school is desirable.
It can accept Bolivian children as long as they satisfy independently set private
school rules and other conditions, and thereby avoid anti-Japanese sentiment
(Nichibo Kykai 1985, 6). By setting the tuition high, Issei attempted to pre-
vent their Nisei children from studying among lower-class non-Nikkei Boliv-
ian children and to encourage them to socialize among themselves and with
only a select few middle- and upper-class non-Nikkei Bolivians. Many of those
non-Nikkei Bolivian students at Numero Uno were children of CAICO em-
ployees, teachers, or stepchildren of intermarried Okinawan-Bolivians (Mori
1998a, 112).3
During the 2001 school year, there were seventy-six students, includ-
ing sixty-five Okinawan-Bolivian students and eleven non-Nikkei Bolivian
Educating Good Nikkei and Okinawan Subjects 117
I wonder why Bolivian kids [Boribiajin no ko] are so chatty! [Name of a non-
Nikkei Bolivian student] just couldnt keep quiet.
Misbehavior by Nisei and Sansei students in the school was often described
as a sign of their Bolivianization (Boribiajin-ka, literally becoming a Bolivian
person), partly because their troubles at the school often involved non-Nikkei
Bolivian students. While I was teaching at Numero Uno, a group of eighth
graders were suspended for two days after they had broken school rules. They
went off school property during a recess to fish at a nearby pond. The group
included three Okinawan-Bolivian and two non-Nikkei Bolivian boys. As the
teachers discussed the incident, they expressed their concern that the Bolivian
kids were having a bad influence on some of the Okinawan-Bolivian stu-
dents. A Nisei Japanese class teacher said, As [Okinawan-Bolivian children]
become older, they begin to imitate [mane o suru] some bad habits of [their
non-Nikkei Bolivian classmates]. It is good that they get along with each other,
but I dont want them to do bad things together. Okinawan-Bolivian students
friendships with non-Nikkei Bolivian students were, therefore, tolerated inso-
far as their allegedly innate Bolivian moral characters were not transmitted to
Okinawan-Bolivian students to erode the Japanese character that the school
was trying to instill in the students. Partly because of subtle discouragement by
the Japanese-class teachers and parents, it was uncommon to find Okinawan-
Bolivian and non-Nikkei Bolivian students developing close friendships at the
school (Kasuya 1998, 126). Becoming a good Nikkei Bolivian, in the eyes of
Japanese-class teachers at Numero Uno School, then, meant not being too cul-
turally Bolivianized, which could be achieved by limiting socialization be-
tween Okinawan-Bolivian and non-Nikkei Bolivian students.
if I should just let such behaviors go as [an indication of ] the national character
[okuni-gara] of this country. In response, Ms. Onaga said, We [i.e., Japanese-
class teachers] know such behaviors are not good, but they [i.e., Spanish-class
teachers] dont think so. There is really nothing we can do about it.
Non-Nikkei Bolivian teachers, however, also embodied what the Japanese-
class teachers considered to be favorable Bolivian national characteristics,
such as their playfulness and allegedly exceptional hand-eye coordination.
During Da de Estudiantes (Students Day), the event during which teachers
showed their appreciation of the students, the Japanese- and Spanish-class
teachers were together making a large number of sandwiches for the children
to eat. Ms. Onaga and Ms. Ihara, both Nisei teachers, pointed at a female non-
Nikkei Bolivian (Spanish-class) teacher who used her palm as a cutting board
while slicing a tomato with a knife. Seeing amazement in my facial expression,
they said: People here [kocchi no hito] are very good at using a knife. They cut
and peel vegetables with a knife so smoothly. At the same event, the Span-
ish-class teachers also put on elaborate shows, including dances, comic skits,
and songs, for the students, who immensely enjoyed the entertainment. To
Mr. Gushiken and me, who were also impressed by the teachers well-prepared
and well-performed acts, Ms. Onaga said: They are very good at entertain-
ment, arent they? Whenever there are occasions, they always come up with
very good stuff.
The non-Nikkei Bolivian (Spanish-class) teachers represented, in the Oki-
nawan-Bolivian school staff members eyes, more of an obstacle than a help in
the schools attempt to instill in Nisei and Sansei children the ideals of good
Nikkei Bolivian subjects, a combination of what they considered to be the
superior cultural traits of Bolivia and Japan. Even as teachers, from the Oki-
nawan-Bolivians perspective, these non-Nikkei Bolivians lacked the strong
work ethic and self-discipline that Nisei and Sansei students were expected to
learn. Instead, these teachers demonstrated skills appropriate for manual labor
and entertainment, which Okinawan-Bolivians viewed as amusing but not ter-
ribly important traits for ideal Nikkei Bolivian subjects.
addition, the Methodist and Caritas churches in Japan began placing volunteer
Japanese language teachers in the schools in Colonia Okinawa in 1958 and
1964, respectively. Ms. Tanaka, originally from central Japan, who had been
the pastor of the Methodist Church in Colonia Okinawa since 1975, became
the first principal of Numero Uno Schools Japanese department. She also re-
cruited younger Japanese Naichi-jin volunteers to help with church activities
and to teach Japanese classes at the school.
Since 1972, JICA has sent experienced schoolteachers, usually headmasters
or principals, for two- or three-year terms to Colonia Okinawa and other Nikkei
schools in Bolivia to help develop Japanese language education there. In 1990,
the program was officially renamed the Nikkei Society Senior Volunteer Pro-
gram. Before teachers were allowed to teach in Colonia Okinawa, JICA head-
quarters in Japan screened candidates for positions as senior volunteer teachers
for competence not only as Japanese language teachers, but also as trainers of
Okinawan-Bolivian Japanese language teachers and as administrative advisors
for schools and community organizations.5 JICAs Nikkei Society Youth Vol-
unteer Program was a successor to the Overseas Development Youth (Kaigai
Kaihatsu Seinen) program, which was originally founded in 1985 with the goal
showed us his old handgun and demonstrated to us how to clean it. He then
told us that he often took new JICA volunteer teachers to his farmland and let
them shoot his handgun and rifle there: They have never shot a gun in their
lives because they lived in a place like [virtually gun-free] Japan, you know? So
everybody loves it! Thats the kind of thing they can only do here. Similarly, I
often witnessed a group of Nisei and Sansei students at Numero Uno catching
new Naichi-jin teachers from Japan between classes and lecturing them about
local food, customs, and Spanish slang that were unfamiliar to the newcomers,
while enjoying their perplexed reactions.
In contrast to the Okinawan-Bolivians self-presentation as being tough
and wild, the Japanese Naichi-jin teachers were considered intellectually so-
phisticated but physically weak. They were, therefore, expected to help the
Okinawan-Bolivians as organizers and stewards for the various community
events. For instance, less than a month after I arrived in Colonia Okinawa,
Nichibo Kykai asked me to serve as an organizing staff member for the Colonia
Okinawa Track Meet. For the track meet, most event staff members assigned
important tasks were Naichi-jin outsiders, such as JICA youth volunteers at
the schools and hospital, Okinawa Prefecture Program teachers, and Method-
ist Church volunteers, all working under Okinawa Prefecture Program teach-
ers, who were routinely designated as event directors. As Okinawan-Bolivians
identified themselves as uneducated and unsophisticatedunfit for planning
and executing detailsNaichi-jin outsiders, such as Japanese class teachers at
Numero Uno School, were asked to fill the void in the community.
Their self-presentations as being uneducated but tough implied that Oki-
nawan-Bolivians had a high regard for physical, embodied skills over intellec-
tual skills. Despite their concern about the declining academic skills among
Nisei youth, which led to the founding of Numero Uno in the 1980s, Issei and
Nisei parents did not appear to be overly concerned about their childrens aca-
demic performance, often regarding vocational skills, such as machine repair
and sewing, as more valuable (Mori 1998b, 114). Mr. Sat noticed that the
people [in Colonia Okinawa] fundamentally valued physical labor more than
mental labor. With a resigned smile, he continued: When I was asked to hold
tutoring sessions for high school students during the [summer] break, some
parents were upset, saying that the sessions cost too much. . . . The farmers
dont value head-using work [atama o tsukau shigoto] very much because it
only uses ones brain, not ones body. They think, Why should anyone be able
to make money by working in an air-conditioned room? Ironically, there-
fore, the self-stereotyping by Okinawan-Bolivians as rural physical workers,
126 CHAPTER FOUR
to fulfill the same roles as JICA senior and youth volunteer teachers, Okinawa
Prefecture Program teachers were also expected to introduce Okinawan tradi-
tional arts, such as Eis dance and sanshin, a stringed musical instrument, to
the students and Okinawan-Bolivian community members at large during the
teachers two-year tenures. During my fieldwork, there were three Okinawan
Prefecture Program teachers in the Colonia. Gushiken Akira, an elementary
school teacher from Okinawa, taught at Numero Uno. Ishimine Muneo in
Colonia Dos was replaced by Ishiki Katsu after Mr. Ishimines two-year term
ended at Nueva Esperanza School. As a member of a famous Okinawan music
and dance performing team back in Okinawa Prefecture, Mr. Gushiken was
also a well-trained performer and choreographer of Eis dance and Ryky
drum (Ryky daiko). During his tenure at Numero Uno, Mr. Gushiken taught
the dance to the schools upperclassmen, Colonia Okinawa Youth Association
members, and the mothers associations in Colonia Uno and Trs. In addition
to teaching Japanese classes and Okinawan folk arts, Okinawa Prefecture Pro-
gram teachers were also expected to assume more responsibilities in planning
and running Colonia Okinawas community events, such as the Colonia-wide
Ekiden race and track meet, than other Japanese Naichi-jin teachers, presum-
ably because of the program teachers ability to connect emotionally with Oki-
nawan-Bolivian community members.
Okinawa Prefecture Program teachers were very popular among the Oki-
nawan-Bolivian students parents and grandparents, especially if the teachers
possessed certain behavioral, psychological, and physical attributes that the
community members considered (stereotyped) as typically Okinawan, such
as fluency in Uchinguchi (Okinawan language), an easygoing attitude, dark
skin, a loud voice, and generous consumption of alcoholic drinks. During my
interviews with Issei in Colonia Okinawa, many fondly recalled Okinawa Pre-
fecture Program teachers in the past who had taught sanshin and Eis to the
students and spoken to them in Uchinguchi. In fact, the Issei elders of Colo-
nia Okinawa were disappointed if Okinawan teachers lacked these qualities.
Ashimine Manabu, a former Okinawa Prefecture Program teacher, told me that
he might have been more warmly accepted by the community had he been able
to speak the Okinawan language fluently and to drink alcohol: I dont drink,
and I dont speak Uchinguchi. So, sometimes the parents and grandparents
dont seem to know what to do with me [laugh]. Mr. Nakane [another Okinawa
Prefecture Program teacher teaching in Colonia Okinawa at the time] can speak
Uchinguchi really well, perhaps because he is, unlike me, from a rural area. So
he gets invitations from the grandpas and grandmas here quite often. These
128 CHAPTER FOUR
Mr. Ishiki: They [Naichi-jin] are all snobs, arent they? And they dont like
Uchin. This incident not only revealed the lingering antipathy and suspicion
toward Japanese Naichi-jin felt by (at least some) Okinawan-Bolivians, which
had often developed through their hardships as dekasegi migrant workers in
mainland Japanese cities, but also indicated their reliance on the Okinawa Pre-
fecture Program teachers as a reliable source of an authentic Okinawan per-
spective on the Japanese nation-state and Japanese Naichi-jin.
Okinawa Prefecture Program teachers helped the Okinawan-Bolivian stu-
dents, their parents, and school staff members learn and maintain their Oki-
nawan cultural heritage through instruction in traditional music and dance.
Equally important, these teachers functioned for Okinawan-Bolivians, students
and nonstudents alike, as an authentic embodiment of their ancestral origin,
represented through the teachers speech, habits, character, and even physical
appearance, which were viewed by Okinawan-Bolivians as uniquely Okinawan.
The teachers presence in Colonia Okinawa served as a crucial reminder for
Okinawan-Bolivians of their distinctiveness as part of the Okinawan diaspora
apart from Japanese Naichi-jin and their overseas counterparts.
Most Nisei teachers at Numero Uno School had become Japanese language
teachers to fulfill the communitys need, not out of their own aspirations. Find-
ing enough qualified Japanese-class teachers was always the biggest challenge
for the Colonia schools. While the aging Issei settlers were more comfortable
in their command of Uchinguchi (or a regional variant), Nisei were generally
not confident enough in their command of Japanese to teach in the classroom,
especially writing and reading, because most had received formal Japanese lan-
guage education only in Colonia Okinawa and only through middle school.
In addition, as white-collar occupations like schoolteachers were not highly
regarded among Okinawan-Bolivians (and were poorly paid) in Colonia Oki-
nawa, Nisei housewives who were fluent in Japanese usually filled the vacant
positions.7 Despite their fluent Japanese speech, adequate writing skills, and
years of teaching Japanese classes at Numero Uno School, these Nisei teachers
were insecure about their linguistic and pedagogical skills. When I first met
Ms. Onaga Tokiko, the Japanese department principal, I told her that I had not
had much experience in Japanese instruction. She dismissed my concern: Oh,
no, please dont worry. We are more or less amateurs, too. When Ms. Onaga
wrote official letters, announcements, or newsletters in Japanese, she asked
the teachers from Japan, Mr. Sat, Mr. Gushiken, or Ms. Tanaka, to double-
check what she had written before mailing them out. The Nisei teachers regu-
larly participated in workshops organized by the Japanese Language Education
Study Group of the Region of Santa Cruz (Santakurusu-Sh Nihongo Kyiku
Kenky-kai), which was founded in 1980 to help Japanese-class teachers in Co-
lonia Okinawa, Colonia San Juan Japones de Yapacan, and Santa Cruz de la
Sierra to improve Japanese language pedagogy.
It was no easy task for these Nisei women to be at the same time native-born
Bolivians, who understood the realities of rural Bolivian customs and norms,
and Japanese-class teachers, who were expected to teach Japanese language
and culture to the students, especially when there were irreconcilable differ-
ences between the Naichi-jin and Okinawan Japanese-language teachers ideas
of appropriate school activities and local norms. For instance, Mr. Gushiken,
an Okinawa Prefecture Program teacher, was troubled when he learned that
Numero Uno students would perform Eis dances around nine oclock in the
evening at the Nikkei Associations festival in Santa Cruz de la Sierra, which he
considered too late for an official school activity. Ms. Onaga and Ms. Oshiro,
both Nisei teachers, appeared apologetic, and they explained to him how Bo-
livian festivals normally took place:
Educating Good Nikkei and Okinawan Subjects 131
gushiken: Is there any way that the children [i.e., students] could
dance earlier in the event and come home sooner? Nine oclock seems
awfully late for schoolchildren to participate in an event. Besides, this
festival is not officially a school event, either.
onaga: Events here usually begin very late. When they begin too
early on a weekday evening, people cant come because of their work.
On the weekends, because people dont have to worry about [going to
work] the next day, events also start very late in the evening. So, either
way, they tend to be very late.
gushiken: Normally in Japan, schools dont take students out at night
after six oclock. Never!
On numerous occasions, Ms. Onaga and other Nisei teachers had to explain to
the Naichi-jin and Okinawan teachers about the customs in Bolivia and Colonia
Okinawa, hoping that the teachers would agree to compromise. By acting as
cultural intermediaries for the Japanese and Okinawan teachers, these Nisei
teachers were placed in the position of defending the schools ambiguously and
contradictorily defined missions: to help Nisei and Sansei children gain ideal-
ized and essentialized Japanese characteristics and behaviors while continu-
ing to live in the realities of Bolivian society.
The ambiguity and contradiction in the ideals of good Nikkei Bolivians
were also expressed by the Nisei teachers when they commented on non-Nik-
kei Bolivians in Colonia Okinawa on different occasions. The Nisei teachers
often were defensive about social norms of Bolivia and Colonia Okinawa when
speaking with the Japanese and Okinawan teachers, but they also shared some
negative stereotypes with their Issei parents regarding locals or Boribia-jin,
thereby sharply distinguishing themselves from local non-Nikkei Bolivians.
When Mr. Gushiken told his colleagues that he would plant a mandarin tree in
his backyard, Ms. Onaga, a Nisei teacher, and Ms. Tanaka, a Japanese Naichi-jin
teacher and a longtime resident of Colonia Okinawa, gave him their advice:
onaga: You have to think carefully about where you plant a fruit-
bearing tree. Otherwise, the fruits will be easily stolen.
tanaka: They [i.e., non-Nikkei Bolivians] are very smart when it
comes to such matters [as theft].
gushiken: Mr. T [his predecessor] told me when I met him, It would
have been okay if they had taken only mangos from the trees in my
yard, but they also took my laundry from the clothes line [laugh].
132 CHAPTER FOUR
tanaka: And once you give them a piece of fruit, they will come to
you all the time.
onaga: [Nodding] They think that they deserve to receive it from you.8
Mr. Sat, the contests chief judge, proposed dropping the third criterion, dress
and bowing, from the list, because he thought manners were less important
than the quality of the speech itself. The Nisei teachers were a little surprised
by the suggestion to change the long-accepted criterion, but, as they usually
accepted the Naichi-jin teachers authority, they adopted the change.
Despite these evaluation criteria, the competitive aspect of the event was
openly detested by the Okinawan-Bolivian students, their parents, and Nisei
teachers at Numero Uno School. At the staff meeting before the contest, a Ni-
sei teacher raised the concern that some students would be too discouraged if
only two from each class won a prize, because everybody [was] trying hard.
Thanks to the Nisei teachers push, the teachers eventually decided to give a
participation prize (sanka-sh) to all students, although contest participation
was mandatory for Japanese-class students.
The contest began with the speeches by the students of the special class
with limited fluency in Japanese and ended with speeches by the class 8 stu-
dents. Some students struggled to remember their essays and stumbled, but
most carried out their presentations well. After the contest, the Numero Uno
Educating Good Nikkei and Okinawan Subjects 135
Bo-Nikken Japanese
Speech Contest
teachers, especially the Nisei teachers, seemed to agonize about evaluating and
grading the contestants speeches. In the staff meeting after the contest, the
Nisei teachers revealed how sorry they had felt for the children who hadnt
won. Ms. Ihara, a longtime Nisei teacher, said, I know some of my students
were unhappy, and some were even teary with anger, when [names of two stu-
dents] were given the prizes. They said it was unfair [zurui] only one won the
first prize. They all had worked hard, you know? . . . There were other students
who had made as great an effort as the winners, so if only one [actually two,
the winner and the runner-up] received a prize, those students efforts would
go unrewarded. . . . Probably we should grade their attitudes [taido] [toward
the contest]; I think it is wrong to evaluate the essay presentations with points.
They were at different levels [of fluency in Japanese], so we should take their
efforts [doryoku] into consideration. Ms. Onaga, a fellow Nisei teacher, agreed:
If we consider each students unique personality, level [of fluency], and process
of preparation for the contest, I think it is insensitive to grade their speeches
with points. In an anonymous evaluation of the contest by the teachers, one
respondent, whom I suspect to be one of the Nisei teachers, suggested: Why
dont we eliminate all individual prizes [for the next years contest] and reward
everybody with the participation prize? In the speech contest, we should teach
them what is important and change their mentality. They should not work hard
only to win a prize. Mr. Sat responded to these critiques from Nisei teachers:
136 CHAPTER FOUR
I also heard that there were concerns among [the contestants] parents that it
would be too harsh not to give any award to the children who worked hard on
their essays. But as long as the events title is a contest [taikai], rather than a
presentation [happy-kai], I think it should remain a competition.10 Unlike Mr.
Sat, a Japanese Naichi-jin teacher, the Nisei teachers showed more concern
about the students motivation than about the writing and speaking skills in
Japanese they were able to develop.
Through the annual speech contests, the Okinawan-Bolivian students were
pushed by the teachers to improve not so much their writing and public speak-
ing skills in Japanese as their overall work ethic. The contests gave the commu-
nity members an opportunity to instill their Nisei and Sansei children with the
virtues of hard work and self-improvement, which the community members
viewed as being threatened by the assimilating forces of Bolivian society. Judg-
ing Nisei and Sansei childrens intellectual ability, much less their competence
in Japanese language, then, was not only unimportant for Okinawan-Bolivians
in Colonia Okinawa, but also potentially counterproductive, because some
children might be so disappointed with the outcome of the contest that they
would lose their interest in working hard to reach their goals. The differences in
the temporary Japanese teachers and Nisei teachers views of the competitive
element of the contest were a telling illustration of how the Okinawan-Bolivian
community defined good Nikkei Bolivian subjects.
daylong event consisted of a wide variety of track races, including sprints, long-
distance races, relays of various lengths, and three-legged races. All races were
organized by age group (elementary school students, intermediate school stu-
dents, youth, adults, seniors, and so on) and by sex. Participants were divided
into five teams, according to their community affiliations: Colonia Uno A and
B (two teams from Colonia Uno, due to its disproportionately larger popula-
tion than the other two Colonias), Colonia Dos, Colonia Trs, and the Oki-
nawa Prefectural Association of Santa Cruz de la Sierra. Each team selected an
athlete for each race, who gained points according to his or her finish, and the
teams competed with each other for the total points gained by their members.
Each team selected a captain and held numerous training sessions for its mem-
bers leading up to the event.
The fierce competition among the teams at the track meet was legendary;
many older Okinawan-Bolivians recalled that past athletes and spectators had
been involved in brawls and had verbally attacked referees and staff mem-
bers over rulings on the races. I was told that because of the decreasing youth
population, caused by Niseis dekasegi emigration to Japan since the 1980s,
the intensity of the competition had declined, but the strong solidarity within
each Colonia and the bitter rivalry and jealousy among the Colonias still fueled
A similar effort was made at Numero Uno School during my fieldwork. Each
Japanese homeroom class (from levels one to eight) had its own flower gar-
den and was responsible for caring for it. The students watered the homeroom
classs garden during cleaning time, and the extracurricular activity period was
occasionally spent weeding and thinning out overgrown plants. Upperclass
students were also asked to help the teachers prepare school and community
events during the extracurricular activity periods. They cleaned the commu-
nity auditorium and the school auditorium, decorated them, and carried the
heavy long benches and tables. The students parents encouraged the Japanese-
class teachers to require their children to do chores and, if they were slacking
off, to use corporal punishment. When I met my homeroom students parents,
they tended to ask more questions about their childrens behavior and attitudes
than about their academic performance. The father of one of my students said
to me, albeit jokingly, Sensei [teacher], is my kid behaving well at school? If she
is misbehaving or not doing her assignments or chores, please feel free to slap
her! [tataite kudasai-ne!]
From the way Okinawan-Bolivian parents focused on students attitudes
toward school chores, it appeared that the parents viewed Japanese classes
at Numero Uno School more as a venue for disciplining children than as an
Educating Good Nikkei and Okinawan Subjects 141
opportunity to invest their time and energy in something they saw as positive.
An Issei parent who had a teenager son on the dance team told me: I am glad
that Mr. Gushiken began [Eis lessons for the Youth Association members]. It is
great that [my son] has become so passionate about something, instead of just
riding a motorbike around. [Nisei and Sansei teenagers] need something to do
to stay out of trouble. Indeed, high energy filled the Youth Association building,
where some twenty high school and intermediate school students participated
in dance and drum training conducted by Mr. Gushiken, who did not hesitate to
raise his voice in correcting their mistakes. The training was intense and physi-
cally demanding; the shimedaiko drums that boys strapped on their bodies were
very heavy, and the dances karate-like movements were fast and acrobatic. Mr.
Gushiken himself was also aware that Eis practice was not just about teaching
the youth a form of folk dance, but also about providing them with discipline
and guidance in their lives. He told me: In Okinawa [Prefecture], too, many
of those who joined [his Eis and drum performance team] used to be rascals
[fury]. Oftentimes, those kids just dont know what to do with their overwhelm-
ing energy and end up becoming members of motorbike gangs [bszoku] or
something. Eis is a means to provide them with an opportunity to get excited
about something and get some discipline through practice.
144 CHAPTER FOUR
Gendering
Transnationality:
Marriage, Family,
and Dekasegi
house, they avoided the rooms where Mr. or Mrs. Tsukamoto was. Whenever
they had idle time, they retreated to a small (approximately six by eight feet)
laundry room behind the kitchen, which connected to both the kitchen and
the outdoor staircase. The room had no door and had two large refrigerators,
a washing machine, two cabinets that stored cleaning supplies, and a small
table with two chairs. There, the two women ate lunch they had brought from
home. These patterns of spatial separation from and avoidance of contact with
their Okinawan-Bolivian employers were extended to their friends and guests.
When I, a house guest of the Tsukamotos at the time, tried to speak with Ms.
Vargas or Ms. Delfino, as with another domestic worker at the home of another
Okinawan-Bolivian family I stayed with, they were visibly startled and kept our
conversations to a minimum before hurrying back to their duties.
From my observations, cooking was one task that non-Nikkei Bolivian do-
mestic workers and Okinawan-Bolivian wives did together, if not frequently.
Mrs. Tsukamoto and Ms. Vargas and Ms. Delfino, for instance, worked side
by side when they prepared lunch for Mr. Tsukamoto and his guests (my wife
and me, in this case), but the maids quickly left the room as soon as their help
was no longer needed. During the lunch, Mrs. Tsukamoto called to Ms. Vargas
and Ms. Delfino from her seat at the dining table when she needed extra help
from them. Even when Okinawan-Bolivian and non-Nikkei Bolivian women
shared the same task, there was a clear distinction in labor and space between
the two groups. While Okinawan-Bolivian women were in charge of actual
cooking, such as seasoning, frying, boiling, and baking, non-Nikkei Bolivian
women were assigned preparatory tasks, such as washing and peeling vege-
tables, tenderizing and cutting meat, and removing guts and scales from fish.
When helping their employers, the non-Nikkei Bolivian women usually used
outdoor sinks and water basins to work on these tasks, and the women entered
the kitchen only to deliver the prepared materials. As other studies on domes-
tic workers have demonstrated, by relegating physically taxing and demeaning
tasks to paid domestics, employers could visually demonstrate and psychologi-
cally confirm their socioeconomic power over their employees (Lan 2007; Par-
reas 2001; Rollins 1985; Romero 1992).
Ritualized practices of deference were also observed in the retail transac-
tions between the wives of Okinawan-Bolivian farm owners and their non-
Nikkei Bolivian employees wives that commonly took place at the doorsteps
of the farm owners houses. From my observations, the non-Nikkei Bolivian
employees wives never entered their Okinawan-Bolivian employers houses
unless the employers needed help with domestic chores. The wives of non-
Gendering Transnationality 157
Nikkei Bolivian farm workers, for instance, always waited outside the Oki-
nawan-Bolivian farm owners houses when the wives needed to purchase food
and daily necessities on credit from their employers wives. While I was staying
with the Kuniyoshis, the wives of Mr. Kuniyoshis employees daily came to the
back door in the morning and early evening. They cried out, Seora! from
outside to call Mrs. Kuniyoshi at the door. After receiving the womens orders,
Mrs. Kuniyoshi went to the storage room of the house to bring the requested
items to the women, who were kept waiting outside.
This form of paternalistic relationship between affluent housewives and
poor domestic workers, separated by both class and ethnic differences, was not
unique to Okinawan-Bolivians and non-Nikkei Bolivians in Colonia Okinawa.
In western Bolivia, indgena (indigenous women) domestic workers were often
regarded as dependent and childlike by upper-class (and Spanish or mes-
tizo) women, who felt obligated to provide their employees with material and
moral assistance (Stephenson 1999, 2829). The daily interactions between the
wives of Okinawan-Bolivian farm owners and the wives of non-Nikkei Boliv-
ian farm laborers through retail transactions embodied and normalized the
unequal relationships between benevolent Okinawan-Bolivians as employ-
ers and creditors, and dependent non-Nikkei Bolivians as employees and
lenders.
By employing non-Nikkei Bolivian women, managing their work within
their houses, and maintaining spatial distinctions between the domestics and
themselves, Okinawan-Bolivian women shaped their roles and status as not
maids and as not (non-Nikkei) Bolivians. Just as in the fields, where the class
and ethnic differences between Okinawan-Bolivian patrones and non-Nikkei
Bolivian trabajadores were defined, perpetuated, and naturalized through ev-
eryday practices, within the domestic sphere of individual households, Oki-
nawan-Bolivian seoras and non-Nikkei Bolivian empleadas were differenti-
ated through division of labor, spatial segregation, and unspoken codes of def-
erence during their interactions.
Okinawa had married Nisei, as strongly preferred by their Issei parents (Anbo
et al. 1998, 252).5 The communitys general disapproval of intermarriages, seen
as a transgression of impermeable ethnic (and, frequently, class) boundaries,
illuminated what sociologist Nazli Kibria (2002) called ethnic aspirations
among Okinawan-Bolivians, especially Issei elders, in Colonia Okinawa. Their
views on intermarriages implied their wishes and desires about the devel-
oping form and character of ethnic identity in their lives (Kibria 2002, 159),
expressed through their sexualized stereotypes of Bolivian, Japanese, and
Okinawan men and women.
members without much help from police. The deep distrust of non-Nikkei
Bolivian men in Colonia Okinawa (and South American men in general) lin-
gered among Issei, which made it difficult for them to accept their daughters
intermarriages.
Unions between a Nisei husband and a non-Nikkei Bolivian woman were
slightly more likely to be accepted than the opposite, partly because Issei men
have been sexually involved with non-Nikkei Bolivian women since the early
settlement period. An elderly Issei man told me that during the early settle-
ment period, single Okinawan men often went to brothels in the city to buy
[non-Nikkei Bolivian] women and that they welcomed new settlers by taking
them to whorehouses in the city of Santa Cruz de la Sierra. Perhaps owing to
these experiences among the Issei settlers, they tended to view non-Nikkei
Bolivian women in general as promiscuous and, therefore, unfit to become the
wives of their sons. Taira Hiroshi, an elderly Issei, told me that Issei parents
generally discouraged their sons from intermarrying with non-Nikkei Bolivian
women. He said: There are many Issei who warn their sons not to marry a lo-
cal woman [genchi no onna]. . . . [Nisei] guys who cant tolerate their wives in-
fidelity shouldnt marry them, because [non-Nikkei Bolivian] men and women
are very carefree about infidelity, saying, Even if you have [extramarital sex],
nobody will notice after you wash yourself [laugh]. Many Isseis stories point-
ed out the alleged cultural differences between Japanese and Bolivian (or
South American) attitudes toward sexual fidelity as a red flag for intermar-
riages between the two groups.
Issei also deemed non-Nikkei Bolivian women to be undesirable as their
sons wives because of their alleged materialistic and extravagant tendencies.
Rather than being frugal and providing for their husbands and children, non-
Nikkei Bolivian wives were stereotyped as spending all their husbands income
for themselves and their birth family members. Shinj Yoshi, whose Nisei son
married a non-Nikkei Bolivian woman, explained: If you have a [non-Nik-
kei] Bolivian wife, your family cant survive because she wastes money. [My
son] always gives money to his wifes siblings. [My daughter-in-laws relatives]
take advantage of a relative who has money. Despite being unfamiliar with
her daughter-in-laws actual intentions or her birth familys financial circum-
stances, Mrs. Shinj seemed to regard her daughter-in-laws management of
the household income as an example of non-Nikkei Bolivian womens natural
tendency to waste. Nisei who married non-Nikkei Bolivians, therefore, had to
fend off their Issei parents stereotypes of their husbands as being unfaithful
and irresponsible or their wives as being promiscuous and extravagant.
160 CHAPTER FIVE
with you because your father is Bolivian [Boribiajin]. . . . Although I heard that
things have improved lately, there were some [divisions] among the students
[based on their parents ethnicities].
After the family returned from Japan, Erika went to both the Methodist
Churchoperated kindergarten, which most Okinawan-Bolivian children at-
tended, and San Francisco Xavier kindergarten, where almost all the pupils
were non-Nikkei Bolivians. Erika had difficulty adjusting to both kindergar-
tens, but for different reasons. At the Methodist kindergarten, Erikas mixed
heritage and her background as Japanese-born gave other Okinawan-Bolivian
kids reasons to pick on her. Yko said: At the Methodist kindergarten, [Erikas]
friends said to her, Your Japanese is weird, because it had a mainlanders [i.e.,
non-Okinawan] accent. Erika tried to change her speech to fit in. . . . They
picked on such trivial differences! For example, they made a big deal when Erika
was wearing an undershirt underneath the school uniform. Also, whenever she
says, In Japan . . . , her friends dont like it and pick on her. She attributed the
Okinawan-Bolivian childrens rejection of Erika to what she viewed as a typi-
cal Okinawan attitude. She said, Okinawans [Okinawajin] are closed-minded.
Even in Bolivia, that characteristic has remained.
At San Francisco Xavier kindergarten, bullying was never a problem. Yko
believed that it was because Erika was a fast learner of Spanish and was seen
as Bolivian by other non-Nikkei Bolivian children. The problem there was,
instead, the considerable gap in socioeconomic status between Erikas family
and her classmates, which resulted in frequent thefts of Erikas belongings by
other students: Her belongings were frequently stolen. Her snacks, lunches,
school supplies. . . . As a parent, it is difficult to talk to your children about
thefts at school, you know? Even though Yko understood that the class dif-
ference between Okinawan-Bolivians and non-Nikkei Bolivians was the root
of the problem, it was too complex for her to explain a causal relationship be-
tween poverty and childrens misbehavior to a small child like Erika, much less
help her cope with it.
Perhaps because of the visible class divisions she had witnessed at San
Francisco Xavier kindergarten and in Colonia Okinawa in general, Yko said,
Erika seemed to consider herself Japanese (Nihonjin) rather than Bolivian
(Boribiajin), despite her mixed heritage and her trouble fitting in with other Ni-
sei and Sansei children. To justify her Japanese identity, Yko said, Erika even
claimed that her father was more Japanese than other non-Nikkei Bolivians.
According to Yko:
162 CHAPTER FIVE
Erika prefers playing with Nikkei kids [to playing with non-Nikkei
Bolivian kids]. She says, [Non-Nikkei Bolivian kids] have different
customs [shkan], even though I always tell her thats wrong. . . . We
parents keep telling her that she is both Japanese and Bolivian, but she
has a strong self-awareness of being Japanese. . . . When asked about
her [non-Nikkei Bolivian] father, she insists, Dad is Japanese, because
he speaks Japanese. He has a Japanese face [Nihonjin no kao], too. She
says that her unclesher fathers brothershave a different kind of
face [from other non-Nikkei Bolivian men]. . . . She also told me, If you
have to go to Japan [to join my dad] without me, I would rather stay
with [my maternal] grandma [than with my paternal grandparents].
One reason Erika had these feelings about being Japanese might be that
she had a much easier time fitting in at preschool in Yokohama than in Colonia
Okinawa. Yko said, [Erika] seemed to have enjoyed her nursery school in Ja-
pan more than the Methodist kindergarten [in Colonia Okinawa]. . . . She was
born in Japan and grew up surrounded by Japanese, so she had no idea that she
was half [hfu] or Nikkei-jin when she was in Japan. Thats why she socialized
with everybody without prejudice. Children who grew up here since they were
babies see the difference [between Okinawan-Bolivians and non-Nikkei Boliv-
ians] from an early age, but Erika was oblivious to it. Once the family moved
to Colonia Okinawa, however, Erika quickly discovered the socioeconomic
gap between non-Nikkei Bolivians and Okinawan-Bolivians in the village and
longed to return to Japan, where Erika believed that socioeconomic stratifica-
tion was less severe. Yko recalled that Erika had told her: Japan is better than
here, isnt it? There are fewer people in misery [kawaisna hito] over there.
Yko was not optimistic that Erika would find it as easy to adjust to Japan the
next time she was there, however. She worried that as a grade school student,
rather than a preschooler, Erika, as a half Japanese, would have much more
difficulty fitting in with her peers in Japan. She sighed: Even we [Nisei] are seen
as foreigners in Japan, so I am worried that Erika, as a half, would have a very
difficult time. Soon after her fathers departure for Japan in 1999, Erika began
to suffer from recurring headaches, which were diagnosed as being caused by
psychological stress. When I returned to Colonia Okinawa in July 2000, Yko
and Erika had already moved to Japan to join Ricardo.
Nisei men who married non-Nikkei Bolivian women also had to grapple
with their Issei parents prejudice against their wives and their childrens sense
of alienation among Okinawan-Bolivians in Colonia Okinawa. Nomura Satoshi
Gendering Transnationality 163
(Satoshi hereafter), a Nisei man, had been married to Marta Estes, a non-Nik-
kei Bolivian woman, since 1992, and they had a daughter, Sayaka, and a son,
Mamoru. Like the Nakaima-Ortiz couple, Satoshi, Marta, and their children
struggled to gain acceptance by Satoshis Issei parents and the Okinawan-Boliv-
ian community at large. The intermarriage had a negative effect on his familys
relationship with other Okinawan-Bolivians. Satoshi said:
Satoshi added that non-Nikkei Bolivian wives tended to feel more alienated
among Okinawan-Bolivian wives than non-Nikkei Bolivian men who married
Okinawan-Bolivian women, because Okinawan-Bolivian women tended to so-
cialize among fellow Nisei women and to talk almost exclusively in Japanese.
Marta, too, sometimes faced indifferent, if not unfriendly, treatment from Ok-
inawan-Bolivian women. Satoshi said, My wife kind of understands how it is
among [Okinawan-Bolivian women]. She has figured out which women think
of her in what way [i.e., positively or negatively].
Satoshi was an engineer at CAICO. He tried farming on his fathers small
lot of fifty hectares, but it was difficult to do both a day job [tsutome] and
farming. He remained a rare Nisei man in Colonia Okinawa who did not farm.
When I interviewed him in December 1998, he told me to my surprise that he
was planning to leave for Japan for dekasegi. It was unusual that a Nisei man in
164 CHAPTER FIVE
his mid-thirties who did not own a farm, and thus did not suffer from a large
amount of debt, would quit his stable job and leave for dekasegi. When I asked
Satoshi about his decision to move to Japan, he told me that his motive was not
solely an economic one, even though it was partly based on his prediction that
CAICO might have to lay off some employees because of its sagging profits
and his ambition to turn his small farm into an apple orchard in the future.
He wouldnt really call his move to Japan dekasegi, because his objective was
not to make money but to live in Japan as a family. He decided to move when
he learned that his daughter Sayaka had been having difficulty fitting in with
her Nisei and Sansei classmates at the Methodist kindergarten because her
mother was different from her friends mothers. After a particularly difficult
day at kindergarten, Sayaka said to her parents, I want a mom who can speak
Japanese. Satoshi also realized that Sayaka was becoming more comfortable
speaking Spanish than Japanese. Sayaka and Mamoru at the time were about
to enter elementary school and kindergarten, respectively, so he thought it was
the right time for his family to move to Japan. When I asked him what Marta
thought of his decision, he said, She kind of knew [dekasegi to Japan] was
coming, because everybody around her was Nikkei. So she didnt oppose the
idea. To Satoshi, therefore, the main purpose of the temporary relocation to
Japan was linguistic and cultural Japanization of his non-Nikkei Bolivian wife
and mixed-heritage children.
During the two years spent in Japan, Martas Japanese communication
skills had improved and she was more hopeful of better relationships with Ok-
inawan-Bolivians in Colonia Okinawa. Satoshi said:
[After returning from Japan,] she has not suddenly become outgoing,
saying, Hey, I have learned Japanese this much. She is still being very
careful. But however little it might be, she did learn Japanese culture
there. So, she is now saying, I am a foreigner [gaijin] in either place,
after all, but I have gotten along with many Japanese and other gaijin
[in Japan], so I might make friends with Japanese [i.e., Okinawan-
Bolivians in Colonia Okinawa] here, too.
Because of Martas ethnicity, however, Satoshi did not expect that Oki-
nawan-Bolivians would wholeheartedly accept her: After all, it is all about
[physical] appearance. Some [Okinawan-Bolivians] are very stubborn, and
they still avoid her simply because she is a local person [koko no hito]. If you are
a local, you must keep [that fact] somewhere in your mind.
Gendering Transnationality 165
During our conversation, Satoshi stressed how different his wife was from
other non-Nikkei Bolivian women, telling me several times that his wife was
never extravagant (zeitaku shinai). He told me how thrifty she was during
their dekasegi in Japan: She never even bought clothes for herself. When she
had to, like when she had to go to [Sayakas] school [for school functions], she
went to a secondhand store and bought a 500-yen piece of clothing. His em-
phasis on his wifes frugality indicated how pervasive the negative stereotype
of non-Nikkei Bolivian wives as irresponsible spenders was among Okinawan-
Bolivians. Furthermore, by stressing how different Marta was from the typi-
cal non-Nikkei Bolivian woman, rather than challenging the stereotype itself,
his narrative showed that even Okinawan-Bolivians who shared the most in-
timate domestic sphere with their non-Nikkei Bolivian spouses were not im-
mune to stereotyping non-Nikkei Bolivians morals.
urban Japan, Nisei women could find jobs in the service and manufacturing
sectors, such as on factory assembly lines, and, less frequently, clerical posi-
tions at offices and cashiers jobs at retail stores. With increased earning power
and participation in a larger social sphere, Okinawan-Bolivian women often
felt more empowered in urban Japan.
Nisei women, who had grown up speaking Japanese more frequently than
Spanish, generally had an easier time fitting in with their Japanese Naichi-jin
coworkers than their male counterparts. As discussed previously, devoting
oneself to academic study and to learning Japanese was considered to be essen-
tially a feminine (or, more accurately, unmasculine) act by Okinawan-Boliv-
ian boys in Colonia Okinawa, a farming community where physical toughness
was esteemed as a sign of masculinity. In such an environment, it was perhaps
no surprise that female Okinawan-Bolivian students generally did better than
male students in school and especially in Japanese classes.7 Female Okinawan-
Bolivian students stronger commitment and higher achievement in school,
and Japanese language classes in particular, gave female students an advantage
after they graduated and decided to move to Japan. Nisei women interviewees
in Colonia Okinawa who had lived in Japan invariably told me that they had
never had a problem communicating in Japanese and often found it quite easy
to pass as Japanese nationals. Like men, Nisei women did not enjoy working
on fast-paced factory assembly lines for long hours and being expendable la-
borers with unstable employment and fluctuating incomes. They added, how-
ever, that their jobs at least enabled them to earn extra money to supplement
their husbands income to pay for their increased living expenses in Japan and
to have active daily lives, which was not always possible back in the rural farm-
ing village in Bolivia.
As a result, despite the many difficulties they had faced during dekasegi,
most of my female Nisei interviewees who had returned to Colonia Okinawa
said that their work experience in Japan had been fulfilling (yarigai ga aru)
and that they found their lives in rural Bolivia a little boring after such experi-
ences. In fact, during my interviews with Nisei couples in Colonia Okinawa
who had returned from dekasegi in Japan, most, if not all, told me that the
wives had wanted to continue to live in Japan, whereas their husbands had
been eager to return to Bolivia. I met two Okinawan-Bolivian women in the
Tsurumi Ward of Yokohama who owned restaurants in the Ushioda-Nakadri
neighborhood after living in Japan for several years. Shingaki Reiko, who was
an Issei but had been raised in Colonia Okinawa since she was six, owned a
small restaurant that served Okinawan and South American dishes, and was
Gendering Transnationality 167
also the bookkeeper for her Nisei sons electric installation firm located in the
same neighborhood. She explained to me her busy schedule:
Many Nisei women who had returned to Colonia Okinawa from Japan sim-
ilarly said that although they were happy to have returned home, they also felt
somehow unfulfilled in rural Bolivia. Nakaima Yko said: I do think my home
is here, and I like living here, because, after all, this is where I was born and
raised. But there just arent any jobs for women, so I dont find much motiva-
tion in my daily life [seikatsu ni hariai ga nai]. Every day, I feel like I am missing
something [Mainichi nanika monotarinai].
Their nostalgia for life in urban Japan, however, should not be mistaken
as fondness for Japanese society in general. Nisei women who had worked on
assembly lines of manufacturing factories recalled how hectic their work had
been and how lonely they had felt among their Japanese Naichi-jin cowork-
ers. Social psychologist Masahiro Tsujimoto quotes a Nisei woman who found
that Naichi-jin Japanese would suddenly change their attitudes when they
found out that [she was] Nikkei-jin (Tsujimoto 1998b, 7). Nakaima Yuk, who
worked in a window frame manufacturing factory in Yokohama, was afraid to
ride the city bus for a while after a bus driver had rudely and repeatedly asked
her whether she had paid the proper fare. Other Nisei women I interviewed also
remembered that Japanese Naichi-jin looked puzzled when the women asked
for directions in Japanese cities; because of the Nisei dekasegi migrant womens
Japanese physical appearance and their largely flawless Japanese speech, local
Japanese Naichi-jin expected the women to be able to read Japanese maps and
street signs to navigate by themselves. These uncomfortable moments during
168 CHAPTER FIVE
Nisei women also expressed their preference for living in urban Japan when
they brought up their childrens social lives and education. To these women,
urban Japan offered a more structured school system than rural Bolivia and a
wide variety of recreational facilities for children and families, such as neigh-
borhood parks and playgrounds, amusement parks, and zoos. Many Nisei
women fondly recalled family excursions on weekends and how their children
enjoyed nursery school or kindergarten in Japan. Ms. Uehara told me how her
son, Kenta, had difficulty adjusting to life in Colonia Okinawa when the family
moved from Japan:
For the first few years after we came back here, [Kenta] insisted, Im
Japanese, not Bolivian, and he didnt like playing with other [Oki-
nawan-Bolivian] kids. He loved playing in a sandbox when he was in
preschool in Japan. But when we came back, the kids here didnt play
with sand, so they just destroyed the things he had made, like build-
ings, railroads, or cakes. Then, he got into a fight with them [laugh].
. . . For educating children, Japan is much better. Children at school
learn a work ethic and [why they need to make] an effort to accom-
plish their goals. Thats why I wanted to give him an education over
there for a few years to build a foundation, even though I knew we
would come back [to Bolivia] soon.
For her, school education meant not only acquiring academic skills and
knowledge but also learning self-discipline and developing moral character,
which she and other Nisei women who had returned from dekasegi in Japan
felt were not a part of Bolivian school education.
Nevertheless, most Nisei migrant women I met told me that they never
planned or wanted to live in Japan for good because they realized that they
would permanently remain foreigners in the society. A Nisei dekasegi mi-
grant woman living with her Nisei husband in Yokohama said that she did not
want to raise their children in Japan because they would continue to be seen as
foreigners (gaikokujin) by Naichi-jin Japanese (Tsujimoto 1998b, 7). Nakaima
Yko recalled that socializing with her neighbors in Yokohama was difficult at
times. When she brought Erika, her then-preschool-age daughter, to a near-
by playground, other Japanese Naichi-jin children and their mothers avoided
them. She said: It might not have anything to do with us being Nikkei-jin from
South America, but these mothers [who brought their children to the same
playground] didnt want their children to play with Erika. It seemed really hard
Gendering Transnationality 171
for a newcomer to join a circle of friends among Japanese wives. Fear that
their children would be alienated or even ostracized among their peers in their
school or neighborhood discouraged these Nisei women from permanently
settling in urban Japan.
With a plan to return to Bolivia in the future, Nisei mothers were worried
that their children might not be able to adjust to the Colonia Okinawa com-
munity. Ms. Uehara returned from Japan with her children when they were
preschoolers. She told me that the main reason that she and her husband had
decided to return to Bolivia was to help their children learn Spanish with rela-
tive ease. As a Nisei woman, Ms. Uehara bitterly remembered how difficult
it was for her, after primarily speaking and reading Japanese within the insu-
lated domestic sphere of Colonia Okinawa, to catch up with urban non-Nikkei
Bolivian classmates at high school in Santa Cruz de la Sierra. She, therefore,
wanted to make sure that her children returned to Bolivia when they were
young enough to learn Spanish quickly so they were able to compete with ur-
ban Bolivians (not the rural Bolivians, she added) when they advanced to high
school. Charged with the feminine domestic domain of child rearing, Nisei
women evaluated the pros and cons of living in Colonia Okinawa and urban
Japan, and tried to deal with the changes their children underwent through
dekasegi migration to Japan and the return to Bolivia by carefully managing
what they viewed as their childrens cultural and linguistic Japanization and
Bolivianization processes in the two environments they lived in.
Intermarried Couples
Changing gender roles and statuses were differently experienced among the
intermarried couples who moved to Japan compared to the endogamous Ni-
sei dekasegi couples, and intermarried couples were often required to make
dramatic adjustments in domestic relations and divisions of labor. These in-
termarried couples during their dekasegi stints in Japan felt a stronger sense
of alienation in the new environment than the endogamous Nisei dekasegi
migrant couples, because the intermarried couples were easily recognized as
foreigners owing to the non-Nikkei Bolivian spouses physical appearance.
Non-Nikkei Bolivian spouses visible Otherness forced Nisei migrant men
and women to transgress the gendered boundaries in the public and domes-
tic spheres that they had been accustomed to in Colonia Okinawa. Nisei mi-
grants had to actively help their non-Nikkei Bolivian spouses at work and their
mixed-heritage children at school, who frequently suffered psychological stress
172 CHAPTER FIVE
duringtheir dekasegi stints in urban Japan because of the language barrier and
overt and covert prejudice from Japanese Naichi-jin peers. As a result, these
Nisei spouses and parents had to take on greater roles in matters in and outside
their households while they were living in Japan, even as they themselves had
to adjust to life as migrants.
Nisei women who were married to non-Nikkei Bolivian men often found
jobs where their husbands worked, because their husbands needed their wives
help to communicate with coworkers and supervisors. Additionally, these
women were responsible for finding their familys apartment. They visited a
number of real estate agencies by themselves, because, as Nakaima Yko said,
If a non-Nikkei [husband] goes to a real estate agency, they would turn him
down just by looking at his face. In contrast, Nisei men with non-Nikkei Boliv-
ian wives took on roles that had previously belonged to the feminine domain
in their family lives, such as parenting and schooling, after they moved from
Colonia Okinawa to urban Japan. When Nomura Satoshi, whose wife was a
non-Nikkei Bolivian, attended his daughters elementary school functions in
Hiratsuka City, Kanagawa, he often felt overwhelmed by the number of women
at the PTA meetings and at parent-teacher conferences (I was stunned at the
PTA assembly; they were all mothers! There were literally no fathers at all!).
Although his daughter didnt suffer from serious bullying at her school, he said,
she still struggled to make friends with her classmates. When she had trouble,
it was he, not his wife, who had to take measures to help her. He described his
efforts to help his daughter:
He had to deal with his daughters emotional and physical troubles, while
his non-Nikkei Bolivian wife struggled with her own adjustment in a foreign
Gendering Transnationality 173
land. She took a few different part-time jobs at supermarkets and other retail
stores in the span of two years, but she had difficulty finding stable employ-
ment. Given an extremely tight job market across various industries in Japan,
Mr. Nomura believed that his wifes inability to find and retain jobs had less to
do with her foreigner status and lack of fluency in Japanese than the fact that
she had two young children, which made it difficult for her to work flexible
hours. Mr. Nomura recalled his wifes problems:
While she was working at a store, when she heard difficult [Japanese]
expressions, like storewide inventory count [tanaoroshi], she called
my cell phone and asked me what they meant. . . . She was rejected at
some job interviews not when they found out that she was gaijin, but
after they asked her, Do you have children? . . . It was so stressful for
my wife when she didnt have a job, because she would have to stay
home all the time. It was so different [from being at home in Colonia
Okinawa]. If she was at home here, she could go outside and take care
of the garden and do other things, but in Japan, our apartment only
had a kitchen, a room, and a closet [so she had few household chores
to do].
In addition to child rearing and his daughters schooling, Mr. Nomura had
to help his wife with household labor more than he had in Bolivia, because his
wife was unable to read the rules regarding such matters as waste collection and
recycling. He tried hard to follow the detailed city ordinances because he was
aware that he and his foreigner wife would be under their Japanese Naichi-jin
neighbors microscope. He said: We were so careful at first. I mean, how was
I supposed to know how to sort our trash? Here, we just burn it all [laugh]. It
was much stricter over there. . . . There were some [Naichi-jin Japanese] neigh-
bors who were not doing it the right way, but it was always gaijin who would
be blamed. . . . So we couldnt do anything bad. He was, therefore, more aware
of his familys outsider status in Japanese society, which was embodied by his
wife, than the endogamous Nisei dekasegi migrant couples were. He added,
Had I been there by myself, people might not have noticed that I am from
South America. But I had my [non-Nikkei Bolivian] wife with me, and [his
neighbors] saw our [South American] friends who were visiting us speaking
Spanish. Then, they would realize [that I was a South American Nikkei-jin].
Intermarried Nisei dekasegi migrants had not only to renegotiate house-
hold duties in the drastically different living environment in urban Japan, but
174 CHAPTER FIVE
also to play their gender roles more flexibly and to be even more careful not
to cause trouble in their neighborhoods than endogamous Okinawan-Bolivian
couples in Japan. In so doing, the intermarried Nisei migrants also became
more aware of their own ambiguous subject positions as cultural and linguistic
mediators between their foreigner spouses and Naichi-jin Japanese, the same
roles they had assumed back in Colonia Okinawa between Okinawan-Bolivian
and non-Nikkei Bolivian families and communities.
who had dated Japanese Naichi-jin women in the past told me that the stereo-
types the women and their parents held about Bolivia scared them away. Yara
Tomohito, a Nisei man in his late twenties who had worked in Chiba Prefecture
in Japan for three years before returning to Colonia Okinawa, recalled his rela-
tionship with a Japanese Naichi-jin girlfriend. Before leaving Japan for Bolivia,
he asked his girlfriend to come to Bolivia with him just to see how things are
there, but she refused: She thought that Bolivia is all [covered with] jungle.
She didnt know how it really is. His experience was not unique among Nisei
men who had dated Naichi-jin Japanese women during their dekasegi stints in
Japan. Some male Nisei interviewees who had returned to Colonia Okinawa
from Japan told me that breaking off a relationship with a Japanese girlfriend
was one of the reasons they decided to leave Japan.
If it was not the Japanese Naichi-jin women themselves, then their parents
got in the way of their marriage or courtship with Nisei men. Takara Naoko
(Naoko hereafter), one of the few Japanese Naichi-jin women who married Ni-
sei men, met Takara Wagner (Wagner hereafter) when he was working in Ja-
pan as a dekasegi migrant. They faced strong opposition from Naokos parents,
who, according to Naoko, were afraid that their daughter would move to a
faraway place for good if she ended up marrying him. Naoko expected that she
would eventually move to Bolivia with Wagner, but her parents were unhappy
about their daughters decision. When the Takaras decided to move to Bolivia,
Naokos parents were further distressed. Naoko and Wagner were still trying
to talk Naokos parents into visiting Colonia Okinawa and hoping that time
[would] cure their [bitter] feelings about their marriage. The possibility of re-
locating to Bolivia, a country viewed as being backward that is also thousands
of miles away from their family and friends in Japan, discouraged Naichi-jin
Japanese from marrying Nisei dekasegi migrants.
Japanese Naichi-jin women and their parents were not the only ones who
were reluctant to date and marry Okinawan-Bolivians. Tokashiki Ken, my Ni-
sei colleague at T Denki, was dating a Nisei woman whose father used to work
at T Denki as an electrician. I asked him why Okinawan-Bolivians seemed to
date or marry among themselves:
suzuki: Why do you guys [Nisei dekasegi migrant men] all seem to
date girls from Bolivia? I mean, you guys speak Japanese well, so I
dont think the [fluency in Japanese] language is a hang-up.
tokashiki: Hmmm, I dont know why. Most guys from Bolivia are
dating South American women, like Brazilian. . . . Bolivian or Brazilian
176 CHAPTER FIVE
age of twenty-nine, which he considered too old for a woman to remain single.
After working in a computer manufacturing factory in Kawasaki City for ten
years, she returned to Bolivia and started a wholesale business in Santa Cruz
de la Sierra with the money she had saved in Japan. Mr. Tonoshiro said with a
sigh: I am urging her, You are already twenty-nine years old. Its about time to
get married. But she told me that many of her friends in Japan were single after
thirty. She says, So I am still a joven [youngster]. . . . Besides, she had never
drunk alcohol before she had gone to Japan, but now that she has been totally
Japanized [Nihon-ka], she drinks a lot. As I have portrayed with regard to fes-
tive occasions in Colonia Okinawa, in which men dined and drank with the
guests of honor, drinking was regarded among Okinawan-Bolivians as a mans,
but not a womans, habit. Mr. Tonoshiro thought that his daughters newly
acquired drinking habit was yet another bad outcome of his Nisei daughters
dekasegi in urban Japan.
Nisei dekasegi migrant couples in urban Japan had to alter the strictly gen-
dered divisions of household labor, because both husband and wife had to work
to save money and cover the increased cost of living in the city. These experi-
ences, however, did not seem to enable the Nisei dekasegi returnees to chal-
lenge and transform the public, communal, and domestic gender regimes in
Colonia Okinawa, owing to its stagnant paid labor market and the strong hold
of communal norms. There were, nonetheless, some signs of change. Tradi-
tionally, the New Years festivities, beginning on New Years Day and lasting
three days, had been extravagant in Colonia Okinawa. Women in each house-
hold had to cook a variety of dishes and provide abundant liquor for the visiting
guests, mostly young men, who went from house to house in the community.
Although the occasions were jovial and regarded as important annual rites,
many Nisei women had long complained about the amount of work the festivi-
ties entailed. Onaga Tokiko, a Nisei woman, told me: It is too much work for
women! The guests come and go incessantly and randomly, so women have to
serve the food on the table, then put it away, only to put it on the table again
before long for the next visitor.
When I was conducting field research from 2000 to 2001, the 2001 New
Year in Colonia Uno was celebrated at the newly completed gymnasium next to
the Nichibo Kykai headquarters, where Okinawan-Bolivian families gathered
for lunch and dinner. While the women still had to prepare a large amount of
food in the headquarters kitchen, they were also able to celebrate New Years
Day by enjoying the food, chatting with their friends, and playing volleyball or
cheering at futsal (floor soccer) games that were also played at the gymnasium.
180 CHAPTER FIVE
The official explanation given for this change was that the community wanted
to celebrate the completion of the new gymnasium, but it also reportedly re-
sulted from a considerable number of informal requests from Colonia Uno
residents, especially Nisei women, for Nichibo Kykai to host a community-
wide event so that the financial burden on each household and the amount of
labor the women had to put into the festivities would be reduced.10 This change
might seem insignificant within the larger scheme of public, communal, and
domestic gender regimes in Colonia Okinawa, but it might be an example of
the subtle transformations in Okinawan-Bolivian communities initiated by the
drastic changes in gender roles and status that a large number of Nisei men and
women had undergone while transmigrating between rural Bolivia and urban
Japan.
Embodiment of
Local Belonging
womens roles and status were defined in relation not only to their husbands,
who were in charge of income-generating work (for many, farm management),
but also, frequently, to their non-Nikkei Bolivian domestic workers, who were
hired by Okinawan-Bolivians to take care of cleaning and laundry. Separated
from each other through spatial arrangement and through a tacit code of defer-
ence, Okinawan-Bolivian women defined their positions by forming gendered
and class/ethnic boundaries within their households. During dekasegi in Japan,
despite their struggles as low-wage laborers, Okinawan-Bolivian women felt
some sense of empowerment from their active participation in the paid labor
market, while men suffered a decline in their privileged roles and status as
the sole income earners. The sense of alienation that both male and female
dekasegi migrants felt in urban Japan owing to the subtle and overt prejudice
they faced in their daily lives was narrated in their racialized stereotypes of
Japanese Naichi-jins sexual undesirability and South Americans desirability as
potential lovers and spouses. While dekasegi migrant men projected racialized
images of oversexualized Bolivian/South American women, in contrast with
what they saw as delicate and uptight Japanese Naichi-jin women, dekasegi
migrant women saw Japanese Naichi-jin men as being uncaring and awkward,
contrasted with warm and suave Bolivian/South American men.
Against the backdrop of highly polarized ethnic and class relations in Co-
lonia Okinawa and of socially and culturally alienating environments for deka-
segi migrant workers in urban Japan, the small number of intermarried Oki-
nawan-Bolivian couples and their children struggled to locate roles and status
within individual households. In Colonia Okinawa, they had to fight sexualized
stereotyping of non-Nikkei Bolivians as being promiscuous, irresponsible, and
materialistic, projected upon their spouses by other Okinawan-Bolivians, to
gain the communitys acceptance. Meanwhile, in urban Japan, couples strug-
gled to compensate for the physical, cultural, and linguistic foreignness that
their non-Nikkei Bolivian spouses and mixed-heritage children represented in
the eyes of Japanese Naichi-jin residents. The couples had no choice but to
stretch the boundaries of the gender roles previously defined back in Colo-
nia Okinawa; men often helped their wives deal with their childrens troubles
at school and comply with city ordinances and neighborhood norms, while
women translated for their husbands and their Japanese Naichi-jin supervi-
sors at their workplaces. The racialized and sexualized boundaries between
Okinawan-Bolivians and their Others in different settings, thus, were not fixed
but instead were actively worked and reworked.
As both an ethnographic account of the localized experiences of
EMBODIMENT OF LOCAL BELONGING 189
Introduction
the twentieth century. While Franz Boas and his students discredited
eugenics as bad science and race as an unscientific category during
the first half of the twentieth century, as Roger Sanjek pointed out, they
also helped create an intellectual climate among cultural anthropolo-
gists in which race is nonexistent and a dangerous fallacy (Sanjek
1994, 67). Another, but related, legacy of Boasian anthropology is the
separation of culture from race, effectively establishing race as given,
unchangeable, and biological (Visweswaran 1998, 72). The demise of the
race concept in cultural anthropology was accelerated by the emergence
of ethnicity studies in the 1960s. Instead of physiological characteristics,
ethnicity is socially defined by a community of language, religion, social
institutions, and other cultural traits (Montagu 1962; van den Berghe
1967). As anthropological studies of cultural ethnicity have flourished
since the 1970s (Banton 1983; Barth 1969; Cohen 1974; DeVos 1975;
Isaacs 1975; Keyes 1981; Light 1981; Nash 1989; Waters 1990), the ideo-
logical separation between race as biology and ethnicity as culture was
widened, and, in some cases, race was relegated to a subcategory of eth-
nicity as only one visible marker for ethnicity (Mukhopadhyay and
Moses 1997, 523). As a result, as many concerned anthropologists have
argued, the anthropology of ethnicity has tended to underestimate the
continuing salience of race in forms of physical appearance in the real
world and to disembody their concrete material conditions (Alonso
1994; Harrison 1995; Shanklin 1994; Williams 1989).
6. Paul Gilroy proposes the concept of ethnic absolutism to explicate
the relationship between race and culture in Britain, where the conflu-
ence of race, nationality, and culture is a driving force for xenophobia
(Gilroy 1990, 114). He defines ethnic absolutism as a reductive, essen-
tialist understanding of ethnic and national difference which operates
through an absolute sense of culture so powerful that it is capable of
separating people off from each other and diverting them into social
and historical locations that are understood to be mutually imperme-
able and incommensurable (ibid., 115).
7. Numerous studies of ethnic groups in the United States have demon-
strated how these groups, who had previously been considered non-
white, came to identify themselves and be perceived as members of
the white race through upward socioeconomic mobility and social
dissociation from African-Americans (Brodkin 1998; Ignatiev 1995;
Jacobson 1998; Loewen 1988).
194 Notes to Pages 7 9
8. Sociologists Paul Willis (1977) and Dick Hebdige (1979), for instance,
theorized working-class youth subcultures as both a symbolic expres-
sion and a formative process of their class-defined life situations.
9. Numerous studies of ethnic groups of non-European descent have
shown the symbolic racial whitening and blackening processes they
experienced in the United States (Koshy 2001; Ong 1996; Warren and
Twine 1997; Winant 1994), while others have exposed the gap between
socially assigned face values of racial whiteness and the actual pale
skin color and/or European heritage (Frankenberg 1993; Hartigan
1999; McClintock 1995).
10. Along with Takezawa (2005), Cornell and Hartmann (1998, 38) are vo-
cal critics of the parochial (i.e., Eurocentric and North Americancen-
tric) paradigm of race concepts, advocating a truly globalnot merely
comparativescope in theorizing race.
11. Anthropological studies on ethnic and racial violence (Das 1990, 1995;
Feldman 1991; Hayden 1996; Jeganathan 1998; Malkki 1995) demonstrate
how acts of violence effectively identify, isolate, and exterminate Others
from the Self and thereby produce the racialized Self and in-group inti-
macy by creating persons out of what are otherwise diffuse, large-scale
labels that have effects but no locations (Appadurai 1998, 241).
12. While most previous studies of racial performances have examined
theatrical presentations by professional artists and entertainers (Case
et al. 1995; Muoz 1999; Manalansan 2003), Urciuoli (1996), Fordham
(1996), Hartigan (1999), and Ho (2002) ethnographically treated ra-
cializing performances in mundane everyday situations.
13. While Takezawa recognizes the importance of attending to the local
nuances of race, she insists that if none of us explores how to speak
of race in the common language, and all of us instead are preoccupied
with the differences among local racial formations, we could neither
understand the historical significances of current racial phenomena
in various parts of the world, nor predict their future implications
(Takezawa 2005, 1112).
14. Renato Rosaldo has proposed the concept of cultural citizenship,
defining it as the right to be different (in terms of race, ethnicity, or
native language) with respect to the norms of the dominant national
community, without compromising ones right to belong in a nation-
state (Rosaldo 1994, 57). Lisa Lowe, along with Stuart Hall (1996) and
Evelyn Glenn (2002), highlights the state-capital alliance that prevents
Notes to Pages 9 10 195
20. Some Issei were born during the 1930s and 1940s in the former over-
seas territories of imperial Japan, such as the South Pacific islands and
Manchuria. I will discuss the colonial backgrounds of Issei further in
the next chapter.
21. There are numerous studies and reports on the early Japanese and
Okinawan immigration to Ben Prefecture before World War II, most
in Japanese. For publications in English on Japanese and Okinawan im-
migration to Bolivia, see chapter 3 of Encyclopedia of Japanese Descen-
dants in the Americas (Kikumura-Yano 2002), Tigner 1963, Amemiya
1999b, Hiraoka 1980, and Thompson 1968. For Japanese publications
on the prewar Japanese and Okinawan immigrants in Bolivia, see Bor-
ibia Nihonjin 100-shnen-shi Hensan Iinkai 2000, Nihonjin Boribia
Ij-shi Hensan Iinkai 1970, Ishikawa 1992, Kunimoto 2000, Ono 1970,
and Otsuka 1992. For studies on postwar Japanese immigration to Bo-
livia in general, see Wakatsuki 1987. On Colonia San Juan de Yapacan,
Kunimotos 1986 study and the settlers own publications are available
(San Fan Ijchi Nyshoku 30-nen Kinen Jigy Suishin Iinkai 1986; San
Fan 15-nenshi Hensan Iinkai 1971; San Fan Nichibo Kykai 1997).
For overviews of Japanese-Bolivian communities in Ben, La Paz, and
Bolivia in general, see Kunimoto 1984, 1989; Furuki 2000; Oshikawa
2000; and Shioiri 2000, all of which are in Japanese.
22. See my other writings (Suzuki 2006, 2007) for the symbolic currency
of imagined or real Japaneseness within the social context of Colonia
Okinawa.
23. I will discuss the female and male social domains in the community in
Chapter 5.
24. Whether Okinawan is a dialect of Japanese or a linguistically distinct
language has long been debated among scholars. Although the Oki-
nawan language remains virtually incomprehensible to the mainland-
ers of Japan, most of the words used are the same (Molasky 2003, 165);
it is the intonation and particular pronunciation of words that make
the Okinawan language sound different from mainland Japanese. The
major difference in pronunciation is the number of vowels used. In Jap-
anese, there are five vowels: a, i, u, e, and o; in the Okinawan language,
only three are used: a, i, and o. As a result, words are pronounced dif-
ferently in the two languages (e.g., te [hand] in mainland Japanese is
ti in Okinawan). In addition, many consonants used in the Okinawan
language do not exist in modern Japanese, some verbs have a unique
Notes to Pages 16 25 197
by three U.S. servicemen in 1995, she argues that the male elites of
Okinawa exploited the symbolic image of Okinawa as an innocent
maiden who has been repeatedly violated by Americans (foreigners)
in order to accuse the father of the Japanese family state, the Naichi-
jins government, of failing to protect his daughter (Angst 2003).
4. This ambiguity of Okinawans as Japanese national subjects, it is be-
lieved, led to numerous tragic deaths of Okinawans during the Battle
of Okinawa at the end of World War II. Japanese Naichi-jin soldiers
in Okinawa suspected Okinawans as potential spies and killed Oki-
nawan civilians (Tomiyama 1995; Allen 2003), by direct execution and
by means of what Norma Field calls compulsory group suicide by
Okinawans themselves (Field 1993; see also Ota 1999). Many argue,
and I agree, that Okinawans today still are not given the same politi-
cal and economic rights within Japan. The prefecture of Okinawa re-
mains home to 75 percent of the U.S. bases and the majority of U.S.
forces in Japan, which occupy 20 percent of Okinawas Hont Island.
Per capita income was around 70 percent of the national average dur-
ing the 1990s, and Okinawas unemployment rate has constantly been
the highest among all prefectures (Hein and Selden 2003a, 56). For
recent studies on the struggles of Okinawa against the Japanese gov-
ernment and the U.S. military, see the volumes edited by Chalmers
Johnson (1999) and Laura Hein and Mark Selden (2003b). In recent
work, Nomura Kya (2005) also offers a compelling argument for un-
conscious colonialism by Japanese Naichi-jin that continues to vic-
timize Okinawans.
5. Bhabhas original formulation of colonial mimicry represents both the
moments of grave predicament and of potential resistance for the col-
onized in the face of the colonizers. In the context of Okinawa under
the Japanese imperial regime, however, it is problematic to highlight
the resistive potential in Okinawans ambiguous subject positions.
6. The massive exodus of Okinawans to Japan proper took place in the
1920s, when the drop in sugars international price hit the monocul-
ture agricultural economy of Okinawa hard. The resulting recession
was called Sotetsu Palm Hell because Okinawans who suffered from
famine reportedly opted to eat poisonous Sotetsu palm leaves. See
Mukai 1992 and Tomiyama 1990 for the causes of the recession and
subsequent Okinawan emigration to cities of mainland Japan, such as
Osaka, Kawasaki, and Yokohama.
Notes to Pages 2527 199
(Kunimoto 2000, 30; Shioiri 2000, 164). Fifteen Okinawan men lived
in Santa Cruz Prefecture, and all were married to Bolivian women.
In contrast, among the eighteen Okinawan men who lived in La Paz,
only five married Bolivian women (Tigner 1954, 471, 485; Furuki 2000,
134135).
16. Another account of the intermarriages in rural Bolivia stated that Issei
Okinawan men who married rural Bolivian women complained about
their wives poor housekeeping, and neglect of their children and ac-
cused them of causing discord in the family by indulging themselves
with frequent dancing, house parties and fiestas (Tigner 1954, 484).
17. Uruma is an ancient name for the Ryky Islands in the Okinawan
archaic language. Uru means coral reef, while ma means in between.
18. The first four chiefs of the Ryky government were nominated by US-
CAR, but the fifth chief, Yara Chby, was elected by the Okinawan
people. Chief Yara was the last Ryky government chief before Oki-
nawas repatriation to Japan in 1972.
19. While the United States government facilitated the speedy, export-ori-
ented growth of the mainland Japanese economy by setting a high and
fixed currency exchange rate (at one U.S. dollar to 360 Japanese yen)
and reducing the mainlands military burden, the United States gov-
ernment deliberately made the Okinawan economy heavily dependent
on the United States military presence by setting a considerably lower
exchange rate (at one U.S. dollar to 120 local B-yen) and concentrat-
ing U.S. installations and staff in the islands (Yoshimi 2003, 442).
20. It is reported that the minimum wage for American employees at
United States bases was fourteen times higher than those of Okinawan
workers (Oguma 1998, 504).
21. Amemiya also writes that nearly all Issei were employed at one time
or another by the military bases before leaving for Colonia Okinawa.
Amemiyas informants also expressed their disdain for military labor,
or gun sagy, because they were placed under American superiors in
terms of both pay scale and rank (Amemiya 1999b, 5859). Among
them was Mr. Tamashiro, a former driver for the United States mili-
tary police, who later immigrated to Colonia Okinawa when he was
twenty-eight years old. He recalled that there was always discrimina-
tion against locals [Okinawans] at work, and working for the military
made him feel like he was a second-class, third-class citizen.
22. Under the agreement between USCAR and the Ryky government
202 Notes to Pages 3336
made in 1952, the landowners were contracted with the chief of the
Ryky government, and the chief subsequently rented the land to
the United States military. Since the rent the Okinawan farmers re-
ceived from USCAR for their land was extremely low, only 2 percent
of the landowners agreed to the contract with the Ryky government.
Hence, USCAR had to resort to the Compulsory Land Expropriation
Act in 1953 (Miyagi 1968, 217).
23. In 1937, Ramn Retamoso L, a researcher working for the Ministry
of Agriculture, Colonization, and Immigration, and Juan Silva V, the
head of the National Office of Immigration, made strong recommen-
dations for immigrant settlements in the eastern lowlands (Retamoso
L and Silva V 1937, 87).
24. In 1952, food imports accounted for 41 percent of all imports and 21
percent of the countrys total food supply (Gill 1987, 31).
25. The U.S. government played a significant role in promoting the devel-
opment of agricultural enterprise in Santa Cruz Prefecture. The Unit-
ed States hoped the new Revolutionary Nationalist Movementled
Bolivia would be reformist, rather than leftist, and sought to maintain
Bolivia within its sphere of influence in the face of potential commu-
nist influence in South America (Gill 1987, 36). Bolivia was the recipi-
ent of the largest amount of financial aid from the United States among
all South American countries from 1945 to 1964 (Uehara 1981, 67). It
was no coincidence, therefore, that the USCAR-led search commis-
sion chose Bolivia as a favorable destination for Okinawan immigrants
to develop commercial agriculture.
26. For more information regarding the Bolivian governments intentions
and local political and economic factors with regard to the Okinawan
settlement program, see Gill 1987, Hiraoka 1972, Amemiya 1999b,
Tigner 1954, and Mori 1998b.
27. Yoko Sellek cites a similar case where Okinawan settlers, who were
carrying Ryky governmentissued certificates of identity, were de-
nied entry into Bolivia on the grounds that the certificates were not
internationally recognized passports (2003, 8586). The Japanese gov-
ernment did not help the settlers reenter Bolivia, claiming that they
had originally immigrated to Bolivia under the United States govern-
ments sponsorship. Ryky government officials ended up having to
ask the United States government to persuade the Bolivian authorities
to permit the settlers to enter Bolivia (ibid.).
Notes to Pages 36 38 203
28. Okinawan settlers dissatisfaction with the lack of assistance from the
Bolivian, United States, and Japanese governments was exacerbated
when the Japanese government sponsored Naichi-jin immigration and
settlement in Santa Cruz Prefecture in 1957. The Naichi-jin settle-
ment, Colonia Japons San Juan de Yapacan, located approximately
120 kilometers west of Colonia Okinawa, was assisted by the Japanese
government from the beginning (Kunimoto 1986; Boribia Nihonjin
100-shnen-shi Hensan Iinkai 2000).
29. Naichi-jin Japanese settlers in Colonia Japons San Juan de Yapacan
and Okinawan settlers in Colonia Okinawa had few contacts until the
1990s, when the highway between Colonia Okinawa and the village of
Yapacan, near Colonia San Juan, was paved, and both Colonias were
equipped with telephone lines. Though there had been several attempts
to create a pan-Nikkei-jin organization in Bolivia, it was not until 1996
that Boribia Nikkei Kykai Rengkai (Federacin Nacional de Asocia-
ciones de Boliviano-Japonesas, or FENABOJA), the national federa-
tion of all regional Nikkei-jin associations in Bolivia, was formed, in
the hope of facilitating interactions among various Nikkei-jin commu-
nities in the country. In 2000, approximately 14,000 Nikkei-jin lived in
Bolivia, among whom 2,300 resided in Santa Cruz Prefecture (Boribia
Nihonjin 100-shnen-shi Hensan Iinkai 2000).
30. As I noted, the first settlers arrived in Colonia Okinawa in August
1954. After struggles with epidemics and poor hydration of the soil in
the first two locations, the settlers finally moved to the current Colonia
Okinawa location in June 1956. Hence, the second anniversary of the
foundation of Colonia Okinawa was held in 1958 (Ij 1987, 253).
31. In fact, many mixed-heritage individuals, or mestizos, in the twenti-
eth century have attempted, and succeeded, in passing as blancos by
learning to speak Spanish, wearing Western clothing, and emulating
modern capitalist ideals, thereby claiming their blanco-ness through
not being Indian (O. Harris 1995, cited in Stephenson 1999, 3, em-
phasis original).
32. While only 14.6 percent of the Bolivian national population was con-
sidered white in 1952, some 30 percent of the Santa Cruz population
self-identified as white (Hiraoka 1980, 26).
33. A large number of domestic migrants from the altiplano have moved
to the lowlands since the 1950s, when the Revolutionary Nationalist
Movement governments insufficient agrarian reform produced a large
204 Notes to Pages 38 41
consider the name a derogatory one imposed upon them by the low-
landers. They instead refer to themselves as paisano, roughly meaning
countryman (Mori 1998b, 56).
39. These stereotypes are often extended to phenotypic characteristics of
each group: kolla have darker skin with flat faces, while camba have
paler skin and larger facial parts. The perceived phenotypic distinctions
between camba and kolla also relate to what (mainly) camba claimed
to be the differences between the two groups in the amount of Euro-
pean blood and cultural proximity to Europe. Stearman observes that
many lowlanders considered themselves racially superior to high-
landers because of a stronger European heritage, citing the history of
the first Spaniards arriving in Santa Cruz from Argentina, not from
the Andean highlands. She encountered many camba who proudly
claimed their pure Castilian heritage, even though they were unable
to provide any proof (Stearman 1985, 20, 208). During my fieldwork,
I also heard camba making derogatory remarks about kolla in the vil-
lage, such as Those [kolla] did not even know how to speak in caste-
llano (Spanish language) until they moved here. They are backward!
40. I will discuss the racial category of whites (hakujin) in the local con-
text in Chapter 2.
41. From 1968 to 1984, the total number of Okinawan immigrants to Bo-
livia was only 143 (JICA Okinawa 1985, 27). Since the planned im-
migration ended in 1964, a small number of voluntary settlers have
come from both Okinawa and the main islands of Japan. From 1985
to 1995, JICA also sent to Colonia Okinawa thirteen young Japanese
(Naichi-jin and Okinawan) who were interested in immigrating to
Bolivia through the Overseas Development Youth (Kaigai Kaihatsu
Seinen) program, which was intended to help the existing Nikkei-jin
communities in South America revitalize themselves. Before depar-
ture the selected participants were trained in Japan in farming or other
special skills useful for living in their migratory destinations and were
expected to settle permanently in the accommodating communities
after a three-year trial period. Among the thirteen who came to Co-
lonia Okinawa through this program, however, only three still lived in
Colonia Okinawain 2003.
42. In 1997, twenty-three returned to Colonia Okinawa from Japan, while
nine left for Japan. There were twenty-seven returns and sixteen
departuresin 1998 and twelve returns and sixteen departures in 1999.
206 Notes to Pages 4548
43. Tsujimoto (1998b, 1998c, 1999) reports that the first group of Okinawan-
Bolivian dekasegi migrants went to Japan in 1983, but I met several
returnees from dekasegi in Japan who claimed to have left for Japan in
1982. The disparity is likely due to the uncertain definition of the term
dekasegi. See Gmelch 1980 for the difficulty in distinguishing tempo-
rary from permanent migration.
44. In 1985, in his second term, President Victor Paz Estenssoro, Siles
Zuazos successor, implemented an aggressive orthodox shock with
the so-called New Economic Plan, which included currency devalua-
tion, establishment of the floating exchange rate, fiscal control of the
national and local governments, tax reform, and the dismantling of
nationally owned corporations and their labor unions. The immedi-
ate outcome of the economic reform was a dramatic decline in the
inflation rate, but also a sharp rise in unemployment to more than 20
percent (Klein 1992, 277).
45. Tsujimoto counted at least thirty-six Okinawan-Bolivians who had
worked in this factory, all of whom were from Okinawa Uno (Tsujimoto
1998c, 318).
46. The oceanfront area of Tsurumi has been known for the presence of
a large Okinawan population since the 1910s, as many Okinawans
moved to the heavy-industrial center called the Keihin industrial zone,
of which Tsurumi and Kawasaki are part, during the severe recession
and famine in Okinawa during the 1910s and 1920s (Tomiyama 1990;
Mukai 1992; Ikuno 2000, 305). As Japans heavy manufacturing indus-
try grew dramatically from the 1950s to 1970s, the increasing number
of Okinawans living in Tsurumi brought about the Okinawa Kenjin-
kai, or Okinawa Prefectural Association, which has organized cultural
events such as the Okinawan-style sumo tournament that still con-
tinues today. Interestingly, however, the dekasegi Okinawan-Bolivians
I have talked to did not consider the areas history as an Okinawan
enclave an important factor for their decision to settle in the area.
47. In 1975, the total amount of Okinawan-Bolivian farmers debt reached
US$1.3 million owing to failed cotton production (Higa 2000, 252).
48. One Okinawan-Bolivian I interviewed boasted that he had debt (in
pesos) of almost US$100,000 before the hyperinflation, but he paid it
off with approximately US$2,000 in 1986.
49. According to Gushiken, US$50,000 was necessary to purchase land
to build a house, and additional expenses included US$30,000 for
Notes to Pages 50 65 207
1. See Cornelius et al. 1994, Hing 1993, Lesser 1999, and Yamanaka 1996
on how the immigration policies of the United States, Brazil, and Japan
have constructed and transformed racial and ethnic categories.
2. It was commonly known among Okinawan-Bolivian farm owners that
the official figures on individual landholding were much smaller than the
reality. To reduce the amount of the annual membership fee for Nichibo
Kykai, which was based on the self-reported property value of a mem-
ber, most underreported the size of their land. One Nichibo Kykai of-
ficial told me that the actual average farm was about 300 hectares, while
approximately ten farmers possessed more than 1,000 hectares.
3. It was reported that while an Okinawan-Bolivian households average
assets were 40,416,000 yen, or US$399,367, their average amount of
debt was 10,097,000 yen, or US$99,777 (JICA1994).
4. Bolivian government agencies had difficulty building and maintaining
basic social infrastructure. For instance, as of 2000, only 6.6 percent of
Bolivian roads were paved (World Bank 2007).
5. The project was, not incidentally, contracted to a Japanese construc-
tion firm. The state-industry congruence in overseas aid projects of
the Japanese government, or, for that matter, the governments of many
other advanced capitalist countries, has created controversy, but that
topic is beyond this studys scope.
6. Because of their immersion in a more competitive urban environment,
208 Notes to Pages 69 83
school. I was unable to find any evidence to attest or refute the valid-
ity of this observation. I have met in Yokohama, however, a number of
Nisei and younger Issei dekasegi migrants who were from Santa Cruz
de la Sierra. They cited similar reasons for their decision to migrate to
Japan as those given by Nisei from the Colonia: difficulty in completing
a college education, lack of well-paying and reliable professional jobs,
and overall economic and social instabilities in Bolivia.
2. Although such staffing practices are prohibited by the Labor Staffing
Law (Rdsha Haken-h), Sano found that the vast majority of South
American Nikkei-jin workers in manufacturing, construction, and
specialized construction (including electrical installation) were em-
ployed through staffing (1995, 112). In the electrical installation in-
dustry, these staffing firms disguised themselves as subcontractors by
providing construction materials and tools such as electric cables, nuts
and bolts, and power tools. The self-supply of materials and tools made
them exempt from the aforementioned law, even though the electri-
cians from these firms worked under the supervision of the parent
company staff at the construction site.
3. Ken, his brother, however, disputed his brothers claim, saying, Oscar
must have received most of his salary.
4. Mr. Kamikawa was born in Okinawa and migrated to Colonia Okinawa
as a child. His family then moved to So Paulo, Brazil, in the 1960s.
5. Those who worked in retail were all women. A small number of women
also worked as office clerks or domestic workers, or took on piece-work
manufacturing at home, such as soldering electronic board panels.
6. I will discuss intermarriages and courtships of Okinawan-Bolivians in
Bolivia and Japan in Chapter 5.
7. Unlike san, a suffix that shows general respect (the equivalent of Mr.
Ms., or Mrs.), kun is a suffix used for those who are considered
equal or below you in terms of age or status.
8. Tsujimoto also argues that the stereotypical image of the suffering
South American Nikkei-jin worker did not quite apply to Okinawan-
Bolivian dekasegi migrant workers. He claims that his Okinawan-
Bolivian informants actually enjoyed physical work and were eager to
learn new skills through their work (Tsujimoto 1998c, 332333).
9. Some of the senior members, such as Tokashiki Oscar, occasionally
criticized the T Denki staff s tardiness, but Mr. Tokashiki himself was
not always punctual.
210 Notes to Pages 100 116
10. For more detailed studies about South American Nikkei-jin workers
in the manufacturing industry and their relationships with Japanese
coworkers and supervisors, see Tsuda 1998, 1999, 2003, and Roth
2002.
11. Coincidentally, Mr. Hokamas vocabulary for hidden discrimination
in Japanese workplaces is used in Tsuda 1998. See also Doi 1985 for
ura versus omote distinctions in Japanese mannerisms.
12. See Nakanes famous theorization (1970) of the vertical relationship
as a central characteristic of Japanese social relationships.
13. Tsuda (1999) argues that Brazilian Nikkei-jin workers subjective expe-
rience of ethnic discrimination in Japan was not necessarily caused by
discriminatory treatment or prejudice by their Japanese coworkers or
supervisors. Instead, Brazilian Nikkei-jin workers subordinate positions
vis--vis Japanese supervisors, the simple and menial work assigned to
them as an inexperienced and often temporary workforce, and Japanese
polite and distant mannerisms were interpreted by Brazilian Nikkei-jin
as Japanese ethnic discrimination and racism against them.
14. Tsujimoto also observed that there were few interactions between Oki-
nawan-Bolivian immigrants and domestic Okinawans in Tsurumi
(1999, 82). He reported persistent anti-Okinawan discrimination in
housing and food service services in the area (Tsujimoto 1998c, 320).
to fill the two vacancies in the Japanese classes at Nueva Esperanza for
the remainder of the 2001 school year.
8. Though infrequent, thefts and robberies of Okinawan-Bolivians by
non-Nikkei Bolivians did take place during my fieldwork in Colonia
Okinawa. According to Issei, the recent perpetrators were increasingly
violent, often robbing victims at gunpoint.
9. Because of their limited writing and speech skills, the special class
students had a choice of reading a short essay from their textbook in-
stead of essays they had written. A winner was chosen from each class,
and the best four among them would advance to the speech contest
sponsored by the Japanese Language Education Learning Committee
of Bolivia (Boribia Nihongo Kyiku Kenky Iinkai, or Bo-Nikken) in
November, joined by the winners of similar contests in other Japanese
language schools throughout Bolivia.
10. In fact, taikai does not necessarily mean a competition; it literally
means a convention. Mr. Sat was trying to highlight the difference
between the pursuit of excellence in writing and speaking in Japanese
by the contestants and merely a series of presentations by them.
11. For instance, many Colonia Uno residents resented the Nichibo
Kykais policy of distributing an equal amount of the community ac-
tivity budget to the three Colonias despite Colonia Unos much larger
population. Meanwhile, the residents of Colonia Dos and Trs were
bitter about the fact that Nichibo Kykai and CAICO headquarters
and Numero Uno School were all located in Colonia Uno. Before they
were built, Colonia Dos residents had insisted that these facilities
should be located in their district, the geographic center of Colonia
Okinawa, rather than in Colonia Uno (Mori 1998b, 111; 1998c, 98).
12. Eis was originally performed during the bon period (a week in July
when people remember and honor the souls of their dead relatives),
and each village on the islands of Okinawa has its own version of Eis
dance and music. Every summer, villagers dance and sing for a day-
and-a-night-long celebration.
13. Most Okinawa Prefecture Program teachers had taught Eis dance be-
fore coming to Colonia Okinawa because the dance was not only wide-
ly practiced throughout the communities in Okinawa Prefecture, but
also incorporated into physical education classes in the prefectures
public schools.
14. Mr. Gushikens performance team incorporated various karate moves
Notes to Pages 149 166 213
(karate was also from Okinawa) into Eis dance and became popular
among youth in Okinawa Prefecture, Japan proper, and abroad. It has
chapters in the United States, Australia, Argentina, Brazil, and Peru,
where a large number of members of the Okinawan diaspora live.
215
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INDEX
245
246 INDEX
20, 155157, 181, 188, 208n8. See also Colegio San Francisco Xavier, 114115
racialized boundaries colonialism: embodiment of colonized,
Brazil: Nikkei-jin in Japan, 56, 103, 107 7, 23, 7677; Japanese, 23, 2426, 30,
108, 174175, 192n4, 210n13; Oki- 198n4, 199n10; unconscious, 198n4
nawans in, 2526, 40, 199n9 Colonia Okinawa, 3, 1016; dekasegi mi-
grating to Japan from, 3, 8, 1618, 22
CAICO/Cooperativa Agropecuaria Inte- 23, 4253, 43f, 63, 83112, 146147,
gral Colonias Okinawa/Colonia Oki- 163182, 186, 188, 209n1; Dos, 34,
nawa Integral Agricultural Coopera- 5657, 212n11; economy, 41, 45, 47,
tive: centro office, 6869, 212n11; em- 50; farm laborers, 35, 3842, 5758,
ployees, 12, 58, 76, 116, 163164; farm 6582, 68f, 156157, 185; floods and
laborers sought by, 4041; farm pro- droughts, 39, 40, 5859, 114; Hospi-
duction reports, 4243; loans, 4751, tal, 73; housing, 5455, 55f; Issei, 3,
207n51; membership of male-headed 12, 3031, 33, 40, 41, 4548, 5253,
households, 149; men congregating 111145; non-Nikkei Bolivians mi-
at, 68, 154; Okinawan-Bolivians land- grating from altiplano to, 3942,
ownership, 61 203n33; Okinawan-Bolivian socio-
camba, 37, 38, 74, 75, 7980, 185, economics, 3942, 45, 5358, 57t,
204n38; stereotypes, 4142, 205n39, 6282, 185; Okinawan enclave, 55,
208n11 56f; Okinawan migrations to (1950s
capital, symbolic, 7, 14, 1718, 38, 42 1970s), 2223, 2834, 201n21; pa-
capitalism, 44 trones, 1819, 35, 3839, 42, 5482,
Catholic school, Colegio San Francisco 139140, 185; returnees from Japan
Xavier, 114115 to, 22, 31, 49, 5152, 75, 103, 146, 149,
cattle ranchers, 12, 55, 66, 70, 75, 208n7 161, 166182, 205n42, 206n43; sec-
children: dekasegi in Japan, 170; mixed- ond anniversary of the foundation of,
heritage, 160165, 171172. See also 36, 203n30; Trs, 34, 5657, 6061,
schools 212n11; Uno, 2f, 34, 5657, 58, 114
citizenship, 5, 89, 20, 195nn1417; Japa- 145, 212n11; USTAM, 3940. See also
nese, 3940, 44, 63, 108, 184; nation- farm owners; gender relationships;
less, 23, 29, 35, 52, 178, 184, 186, labor/laborers; population; racializa-
194n14, 198n4; Okinawan, 32, 39 tion; schools
40; Okinawan-Bolivian, 3536, 44, communist threat: East Asia, 29, 30, 32,
63, 108, 185; racialized belonging, 184; South America, 202n25
210, 1920, 53, 55, 183189, 192n3, community events: Colonia Okinawa,
195n16; U.S., 184. See also transna- 3637, 48, 64, 118119, 125, 127,
tionalization 132133, 136138, 137f, 140142,
class: in domestic sphere, 155157; racial- 152; gender roles, 152165, 168, 179
ization of, 59, 3739, 4142, 6582, 180; Japanese culture in Bolivia and,
161162, 185; transnational transitions, 130131; Okinawan-Bolivian in Ja-
4, 83112, 188189. See also labor/ pan, 17, 168169, 180, 214n8; schools
laborers; patrones; socioeconomics roles in, 118119, 125, 127, 132133,
Colegio Evangelica Metodista Colonia 140142, 152; track meet, 136138,
Okinawa, 114116, 115t, 123f 137f; young Nisei, 48, 64
INDEX 247
family, 20; dekasegi in Japan, 169, 171 Japan, 165182, 188; domestic work-
172; mixed-heritage children, 160 ers, 155157, 213n4; household roles,
165, 171172; patrilineal succession 147, 149, 154157, 179, 181, 182,
to family property, 148. See also chil- 187188, 213n1; inheritance by, 148;
dren; gender relationships; household intermarriage issues, 158159, 163
unit; marriage 165, 172, 177, 201n16; interviews
family state, Japanese multiethnic, 24 with, 15, 146; Japanese-language class
25, 197n3 students, 166, 214n7; in paid labor
farm aid: from Japan to Okinawan-Bolivi- market, 148151, 165168, 169, 179,
ans, 3942, 4751, 5862, 59t, 65, 78, 180, 209n5; public gender regime,
207n51; from Okinawa to Okinawan- 147, 148152, 165168, 180, 182
Bolivians, 58, 59t; from U.S. to Boliv- finca system, 38, 71, 72
ia, 33, 202n25 floods, Colonia Okinawa, 39, 40, 5859, 114
farm laborers: Colonia Okinawa, 35, food supply: in Bolivia, 33, 202n24; for
3842, 5758, 6582, 68f, 156157, farm laborers, 7273. See also agri-
185; exploited, 6971, 78; hazards, culture
70; Micronesia, 26; non-Nikkei Bo- Foucault, Michel, 5, 7, 8, 195n17
livians, 5758, 6582, 68f, 156157,
185; Peru, 26; resistance by, 7374, genchi-jin, 7579, 208n10. See also non-
7879, 208n9; rotated, 7071; theft Nikkei Bolivians
by, 7374, 7879; wages, 69, 207n7; gender relationships, 20, 148182, 187
wives, 156157 188; communal gender regime, 147,
farm owners, 3282; Bolivian agrarian 152165; domestic spheres of influ-
reform (1953), 3334, 38, 61; British- ence, 154157, 181; public gender re-
owned sugarcane plantations in Peru, gime, 147, 148152, 165168, 180, 182;
26, 199n11; cotton production, 40, 41, returned dekasegi, 146, 149, 161, 166
47, 206n47; debt, 5051, 52, 57, 79, 182. See also females; males; marriage
206n47, 207n50; everyday production, Genovese, Eugene, 72
6569; expenses, 206n49; exploita- Gilroy, Paul, 6, 193n6
tion of laborers, 6971, 78; finca sys- good Nikkei Bolivian and Okinawan
tem, 38, 71, 72; income, 57, 57t; Nich- diasporic subjects, 20; education for,
ibo Kykai membership fee, 207n2; 4, 19, 20, 113145, 187
non-Nikkei Bolivian, 7172, 139; Gushi Kanch, 28
Okinawa, 31, 32, 202n22; Okinawan- Gushiken Ktei, 4849, 206n49
Bolivian, 8, 12, 1819, 35, 3839, 42,
5482, 156157, 184, 185; patrones, hakujin, 75, 7982
1819, 35, 3839, 42, 5482, 67f, Hawaii: Naichi-jin, 199n7; Okinawan mi-
139140, 185; semisubsistent farm- grs, 25, 27, 199n7
ing, 3439; size of farm, 207n2; soy- Herzfeld, Michael, 9
bean production, 4243, 47, 5051, household unit, 24, 148; debt, 207n3;
67f; wives, 156157. See also farm aid; womens roles in, 147, 149, 154157,
farm laborers 181, 182, 187188, 213n1
females, 213n3; community events roles, housing: Colonia Okinawa, 5455, 55f.
152165, 168, 179180; dekasegi in See also Okinawan enclaves
INDEX 249
identities, 115, 26; fieldworker, 12, 9, 14 industries, 90; U.S. relationship, 36;
15; government-issued certificate of, World War II surrender to Allies (Au-
202n27; of interviewees, 21; Okinawan- gust 15, 1945), 29. See also dekasegi;
Bolivian transformations, 22, 37; Oki- Japanese language; Japan Interna-
nawan/Japanese, 4, 23, 25, 110111; tional Cooperation Agency (JICA);
schools shaping, 34, 19, 20, 113145, South American Nikkei-jin in Japan;
187. See also Bolivianization; embodi- Yokohama
ment; Japaneseness; Okinawanness; Japanese Association, La Paz, 28
racialization; subject positions Japanese language, 197n25; standard Japa-
Ikuno Eriko, 177, 214n9 nese, 1516, 1718, 22, 36, 83, 191n1.
immigrants. See migrations Japanese-language classes, 114115, 117
Inca Rubber Company, U.S., 2627 118, 211n4, 213n7; female students,
income: Okinawan-Bolivian, 57, 57t. See 166, 214n7; parents view of, 140141;
also wages speech contest, 133136, 138, 212nn9,
indio, 3738 10; teachers, 1213, 15, 17, 113, 119,
interviews, 1317; with women, 15, 146 120126, 130
Issei, 2829, 31, 196n20; in Bolivia (1952), Japanese Language Education Study Group
27; citizenship, 36; in Colonia Oki- of the Region of Santa Cruz, 130
nawa, 3, 12, 3031, 33, 40, 41, 45 Japanese mainlander. See Naichi-jin
48, 5253, 111145; languages, 15, Japaneseness: boundaries with Okinawan-
197n25; in Okinawa (prewar and war- ness, 26, 186; embodied, 14, 126, 185
time), 23 186; Japanese Naichi-jin teachers in
Bolivia, 124; Okinawan-Bolivian, 52,
Japan: colonialist, 23, 2426, 30, 198n4, 65, 102103. See also racialization
199n10; constitution, 25; construction, Japan International Cooperation Agency
83112; dka policies, 25, 30; econo- (JICA), 39, 177, 211n6; Colonia Oki-
my, 4546, 49, 5253; government- nawas education, 117, 119, 123125;
sponsored settlement programs, 11, Colonia Okinawas labor relations,
29, 3536; imperial rule over Oki- 56; financial assistance for Colonia
nawans, 23, 24, 25, 30, 3536, 184, Okinawa, 47, 4849, 50, 5862, 79,
191n1; labor deficit, 4546, 4950; 207n51; senior volunteer, 121, 123
manufacturing, 4553, 83, 89112, 124, 152, 211nn5, 7; youth volunteer,
166167, 206n46; multiethnic family 150, 152, 205n41, 211n6
state, 2425, 197n3; Naichi-jin in, 25, japoneses, patrones, 3839, 5482
101112, 174178, 181182, 199n10;
nationality law, 44; Okinawan-Boliv- kenjinkai, 28, 206n46
ian aid from, 3942, 4751, 5862, Kibria, Nazli, 158
59t, 65, 78, 207n51; Okinawan-Boliv- kolla, 4142, 75, 80, 185, 204n38, 205n39
ian community events, 17, 168169, Kondo, Dorinne, 79
180; Okinawan migration to (1920s),
198n6; Okinawan rights in, 25, 198n4; labor/laborers, 19, 23; abstract, 195n15; avail-
Okinawas repatriation to (1972), 29, ability of work in Japan, 8889; Bolivian
40; Overseas Migration Agency, 39 rubber industry, 2627, 199n11; CAICO
40; Plaza Agreement (1985), 46; service employees, 12, 58, 76, 116, 163164;
250 INDEX
184, 191n1; land ownership, 3032; values, 125126, 133, 136138, 139
Okinawan-Bolivian farm aid from, 140, 144, 209n8. See also competitive-
58, 59t; repatriation to Japan (1972), ness; racialization
29, 40; USCAR, 3034, 201nn18, 22, Okinawans, domestic: dekasegi passing
202n25. See also Okinawan language; as, 108112, 186; in Japan, 102
Okinawanness; Okinawans, domes- 112, 210n14; stereotypes, 108112,
tic; U.S. military in Okinawa 127129, 186; teachers in Colonia
Okinawa Kenjinkai, 206n46 Okinawa, 119, 126129, 139140,
Okinawan-Bolivians: as ethnic minor- 141. See also Okinawa; Okinawan
ity in Bolivia, 52, 183; farm owners, language
8, 12, 1819, 35, 3839, 42, 5482, Okinawa Numero Uno Japanese-Bolivian
156157, 184, 185; genchi-jin, 208n10; School, 116145, 152, 211n3
marriage with non-Nikkei Bolivians, Ong, Aihwa, 9, 195n17
20, 28, 116, 146, 158165, 171174, Osterweil, Marc, 81
201nn1516, 213n5; marriage with OSullivan, Tim, 4
other foreign immigrants in Japan, Others: Bolivian racialized categories,
214n9; Nikkei-jin laborers in Japan, 7475, 82, 185, 188; dekasegi in Ja-
8, 83112, 165174, 186; pan-Nikkei pan, 181; gender regime, 147; Japa-
organizations, 28; passing as domes- nese colonized, 24, 199n10. See also
tic Okinawans in Japan, 108112, boundaries; discrimination; stereo-
186; population, 12, 27, 27t, 34, 39 types
44, 40t, 44f, 52; racialized categories
in Bolivia, 7482; racialized catego- Palumbo-Liu, David, 7
ries in Japan, 102112; social divide paternalism, patrones, 7174, 78
with non-Nikkei Bolivians, 14, 29, patrones, 1819, 35, 3839, 42, 5482,
4142, 5462, 55f, 6582, 148152, 139140, 185. See also farm owners
185; socioeconomics in Colonia Oki- Paz Estenssoro, Victor, 34, 61, 206n44
nawa, 3942, 45, 5358, 57t, 6282, Peru: British-owned sugarcane planta-
185; stereotypes, 77, 82, 105108, tions, 26, 199n11; migration to Boliv-
125126, 147, 174178. See also Co- ia from, 26, 199n11; Nikkei-jin, 56,
lonia Okinawa; dekasegi; gender rela- 103, 197n1, 199n8
tionships; Issei; Nisei; schools physical skills, Okinawan-Bolivians valu-
Okinawan-Brazilians, 2526, 40, 199n9 ing, 125126, 138, 209n8
Okinawan enclaves: Colonia Okinawa, 55, politics, 26; communist threat, 29, 30,
56f; Hawaii, 27; Micronesia, 27; Tsu- 32, 184, 202n25; dka policies, 25,
rumi, 206n46. See also housing 30; Japan imperialist rule over Oki-
Okinawan language, 191n1, 196n24; in nawans, 23, 24, 25, 30, 3536, 184,
Colonia Okinawa, 35, 3637, 39; 191n1
dekasegi in Japan, 22, 36; interviews, population: Bolivian national/Santa
1516; prohibited in Brazil, 26; teach- Cruz Prefecture whites, 37, 203n32;
ers from Okinawa, 127128 Bolivian nationals in Japan, 16; Co-
Okinawanness, 4, 127129; boundaries lonia Okinawa, 12, 34, 3944, 40t,
with Japaneseness, 26, 186; embod- 44f, 52; Colonia Okinawa students,
ied, 128, 129, 141, 185186, 199n10; 115116, 115t, 211n3; Naichi-jin in
INDEX 253
Bolivia, 27t; Nikkei-jin in Bolivia, 12, 149, 161, 166182, 205n42, 206n43;
27t, 203n29; non-Nikkei Bolivians in to Japan after U.S. occupation, 31; to
Colonia Okinawa, 40t, 42, 52; Oki- Okinawa from former Japanese colo-
nawa, 29, 32; Okinawan-Bolivians, nies, 3132
12, 27, 27t, 34, 3944, 40t, 44f, 52; Riberalta: immigrant population, 12, 200n12;
Okinawans and Japanese ordered Okinawans, 27, 28, 29, 200n15
by U.S. to return to Japan, 31; Riber- Roediger, David, 76
alta immigrants, 12, 200n12. See also Rollins, Judith, 155
migrations rubber industry: in Bolivia, 2627, 199n11,
200n12
race concept, 13, 194nn10; anthropologi- Ryky, 191n1; annexation of (1879), 25;
cal, 56, 192n5; Japanese, 192n3; sym- Government of the Ryky Islands (af-
bolic capital, 7, 14, 1718, 38, 42 ter 1952), 2933, 35t, 201n22, 202n27;
racialization, 59, 19, 5556, 183184; kingdom, 24; USCAR, 3034, 201nn18,
Bolivian categories, 3738, 41, 74 22, 202n25. See also Okinawa
82, 125132, 139140, 144; of class,
59, 3739, 4142, 6582, 161162, Sanchez de Lozada, G., 6162
185; of culture, 59, 4142, 193n6; Sansei: in Colonia Okinawa, 12, 64
gender and, 146147; Nihonjin in Ja- sanshin music, 13, 26, 141
pan, 101112; Okinawan-Bolivians in Santa Cruz Prefecture, 10, 12, 2829, 33
Yokohama, 8, 102112, 174178, 186; 34, 195n19; agriculture, 41, 202n25;
Okinawans from Okinawa Prefecture Nikkei-jin population, 12, 203n29; Oki-
in Japan, 103112; racialized belong- nawan-Bolivians changing socioeco-
ing, 210, 1920, 53, 55, 183189, nomic status, 185; Okinawans marrying
192n3, 195n16. See also racialized non-Nikkei Bolivians (1952), 201n15;
boundaries; stereotypes racialized class structure, 37; Santa Cruz
racialized boundaries, 9, 71, 103106; de la Sierra, 10, 12, 34, 6264, 207n6,
colonizers and colonized, 4, 23, 24, 209n1; unpredictable local weather, 50;
29, 7677, 198n5, 199n10; Japanese white population, 37, 203n32. See also
and Bolivians/South Americans, 110, Colonia Okinawa
192n4; Japanese Naichi-jin supervi- Saucedo, Diego, 37
sors and Okinawan-Bolivian work- schools, 19, 113145, 187, 210n1; chores,
ers, 102; Japanese and non-Nikkei 139141; Colegio Evangelica Me-
Bolivians, 14; Japaneseness and todista Colonia Okinawa, 114116,
Okinawanness, 26, 186; Okinawan- 115t, 123f; Colegio San Francisco
Bolivians and non-Nikkei Bolivians, Xavier, 114115; in community
29, 65, 155157, 188, 208n8; Oki- events, 118119, 125, 127, 132133,
nawan-Bolivians and their Others, 140142, 152; dekasegi in Japan, 170;
7475, 82, 185, 188; Okinawans and economics, 114, 115116, 210n2,
Japanese, 110, 186 212n11; fieldworker as postgraduate,
resistance: by farm laborers, 7374, 78 15, 17; Japanese culture, 34, 19, 117,
79, 208n9 132; key actors, 119132; Nisei higher
returnees: to Colonia Okinawa from Ja- education, 6264, 208n6, 209n1; non-
pan, 22, 31, 49, 5152, 75, 103, 146, Nikkei Bolivian students, 119120;
254 INDEX
Nueva Esperanza School, 113, 128, 8, 83112, 186; Peruvian, 56, 103,
139, 210n1, 211n7; Okinawa Numero 174, 197n1, 199n8; stereotypes, 107
Uno Japanese-Bolivian School, 116 108, 209n8. See also dekasegi
145, 152, 211n3; racialized catego- soybean production, Okinawan-Bolivian,
ries, 125132, 139140, 144; shaping 4243, 47, 5051, 67f
good Nikkei Bolivian and Okinawan Spanish language, 1516, 1718, 171, 196n25
diasporic subjects, 4, 19, 20, 113145, spatial/deference boundaries, 5, 20, 155
187; student populations, 115116, 157, 181, 188, 208n8
115t, 211n3. See also teachers speech contest, Japanese language, 133
sexuality, 147; racialized stereotypes, 136, 138, 212nn910
107108, 154, 158165, 174178, stereotypes, racialized, 144145; of Na-
181182, 188, 201n16, 208n11. See ichi-jin, 103108, 128, 147, 174178;
also gender relationships of non-Nikkei Bolivians, 20, 4142,
shimedaiko drum, 141144, 143f 7782, 107, 111, 120, 131132, 139
Shishi-Mai/Lion Dance, 142f 140, 154, 158165, 201n16, 205n39,
Siles Zuazo, Hernn, 45 208n11; of Okinawan-Bolivians, 77,
Skuse, Paul H., 32 82, 105108, 125126, 147, 174178;
Small, Stephen, 65 of real Okinawans, 108112, 127
socialization: dekasegi in Japan, 17, 168 129, 186; sexualized, 107108, 154,
169, 174178, 180181, 210n14, 158165, 174178, 181182, 188,
214n8; between Okinawan-Bolivian 201n16, 208n11
and non-Nikkei Bolivian students, subject positions, 2, 4, 8, 2223, 53,
120. See also community events; mar- 195nn1617; colonized, 4, 23, 24, 29,
riage; schools 184, 198n5, 199n10; defined, 4; edu-
socioeconomics, 3, 26; Bolivia, 62; em- cation as good Nikkei Bolivian and
bodied, 55, 81, 84, 157; host socie- Okinawan diasporic subjects, 4, 19,
ties, 26; Japan, 4546, 53; non-Nikkei 20, 113145, 187; everyday practices,
Bolivians, 4142, 5474, 7682; Oki- 2, 8, 9, 18, 20, 53, 55, 6569, 157, 180,
nawan-Bolivians in Colonia Okinawa, 185; gender regimes, 147, 165, 174,
3942, 45, 5358, 57t, 6282, 185; 178, 180181; nationless, 23, 29, 35,
Okinawan-Bolivians in Japan, 4647, 52, 178, 184, 186, 194n14, 198n4;
9091; Okinawan-Bolivians in La Paz, Okinawa-Bolivian farmers and non-
28, 29, 200n14; Okinawan-Bolivian Nikkei laborers, 82, 185; polluted,
urban-rural contrasts, 28, 29, 6265; 192n4; state institutions and, 55. See
social divide between Okinawan-Bo- also citizenship; dekasegi; embodi-
livians and non-Nikkei Bolivians, 14, ment; labor/laborers; nationality; ra-
29, 4142, 5462, 55f, 6582, 148 cialization; transnationalization
152, 185. See also class; economics; sugarcane plantations: British-owned in
farm owners; labor/laborers Peru, 26, 199n11
South American Nikkei-jin in Japan, 8, symbolic capital, race as, 7, 14, 1718, 38, 42
83112, 186, 197n1, 209n2; Brazilian,
56, 103, 107108, 174175, 192n4, Takezawa Yasuko, 6, 8, 194n13
210n13; Naichi-jin discrimination vs., T Denki, 1718, 8688, 90, 91108, 174
105106, 210n13; Okinawan-Bolivian, 176, 209n8
INDEX 255
teachers, 113, 116, 117, 119132; field- 27; Technical Assistance Mission
worker as, 1213, 15, 17, 113, 120, 124, (USTAM) in Colonia Okinawa, 39
125, 133134, 138, 211n7; Japanese- 40. See also U.S. military in Okinawa
language, 1213, 15, 17, 113, 119, Urciuoli, Bonnie, 8
120126, 130; JICA senior volunteer, Uruma Agricultural Society, 2829, 34,
121, 123124, 152, 211nn5, 7; Naichi- 201n17, 203n30
jin, 119, 122126; Nisei Okinawan- Uruma disease, 34
Bolivian, 119, 129132; from Okinawa U.S. military in Okinawa, 197n3, 198n4,
Prefecture, 119, 126129, 139140, 201nn1921; occupation (19451972),
141; Spanish-class, 119, 120122 23, 2934, 3940, 52, 191n1, 201n19
thefts, 212n8; by farm laborers, 7374,
7879; in schools, 115 wages: farm laborers in Colonia Okinawa,
Tigner, James L., 32 69, 207n7; in Japan, 8689, 90; U.S.
Tomiyama Ichir, 23, 199n10 military bases in Okinawa, 201n20.
track meet, 136138, 137f See also income
transnationalization, 45, 9, 29, 35, 52, Walby, Sylvia, 147
183189; class transitions, 4, 83112, whites, 67, 193n7, 194n9; Bolivian
188189; gender and, 146147, 165 blanco, 3738, 4142, 81, 203n31;
182; racialized belonging, 39, 19 Bolivian hakujin, 75, 7982; Santa
20, 53, 55, 183189. See also dekasegi; Cruz Prefecture/Bolivian national
migrations population, 37, 203n32
Tsuda, Takeyuki, 6, 15, 192n4, 210n13 Willis, Paul, 101, 194n8
Tsujimoto Masahiro, 167, 177, 206nn43, women. See females
45, 209n8, 210n14, 214n8 work ethic: Japanese, 104, 170; Okinawan,
Tsurumi Ward, 1618, 46, 8386, 166 127129, 139140, 144; Okinawan-
174, 206n46, 214n8 Bolivian, 105, 122, 133, 136, 139
World War II: Battle of Okinawa (1945),
Uchinguchi. See Okinawan language 29, 30, 197n3, 198n4; internment
United States: aid to Bolivia, 33, 202n25; camps in U.S., 200n13; Japans surren-
Civil Administration of the Ryky der to Allies (August 15, 1945), 29
Islands (USCAR), 3034, 201nn18,
22, 202n25; and communist threat, yobiyose, to Bolivia, 27, 27t, 28
29, 30, 32, 184; fieldworker time in, Yokohama, 1415, 214n8; dekasegi, 3, 8,
195n18; Inca Rubber Company, 26 1618, 2223, 43f, 4653, 83112,
27; internment camps for Japanese, 160, 162, 166176, 195n16, 209nn1,
200n13; sponsoring migration of Ok- 8; Tsurumi Ward of, 1618, 46, 83
inawans to Bolivia, 2936, 202nn25, 86, 166174, 206n46, 214n8
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bolivia and
experiences of Okinawan-Bolivians, it
UNIVERSITY of HAWAII PRESS argues that transnational Okinawan-
Japan
Honolulu, Hawaii 96822-1888 Bolivians underwent the various racial-
ization processes in which they were
ISBN 978-0-8248-3344-2
90000 portrayed by non-Okinawan Bolivians
living in the Colonia and native-born
Japanese mainlanders in Yokohama and
9 780824 833442
www.uhpress.hawaii.edu TA K U S U Z U K I
(Continued on back flap)