can’t remember when I found out about it for the first time. It was just something in the collective history of our family, something in the air that the Nakada family breathed. Books with photographs were lined up on the bookshelf in the living room, and Dad was casually talking about life in the “camp”. Whenever his sisters and brothers are by his side, if there is a question as to when something happened, was it before or after the camp, in their lives of war and migration this bookmark has was engraved. I have witnessed firsthand the experience of imprisonment from a living generation. But a generation later, I wondered how my children would learn about this scar that marked our family and this country’s past.
Last October, I heard about a new exhibition at the Japanese American National Museum in Los Angeles.ah: Book of Sacred Names. In a moving ceremony in late September, to the beat of drums and the voices of indigenous peoples, the museum duly received and installed this huge, beautiful, hand-stitched book. This book contains the first comprehensive list of over 125,000 Nikkei. He was imprisoned in the United States during World War II. For the first time, everyone’s names were collected on paper. While this sacred book can be visited by anyone, the descendants of those previously imprisoned were invited to honor this sacred book by pressing and recognizing their names. I promised to do so.
On a winter afternoon, my two kids, my husband, and I drove through Los Angeles traffic to the museum. I wish my father was healthy enough to travel to see this. He was the last survivor of his family and we were visiting the day before his 92nd birthday. But even if his parents and brothers and sisters are all dead, we can honor them and honor him.
“It was important for me to visit these places, honor their names and lives, comfort their souls, and fight for reparations for their descendants.”
We arrived early for an appointment to be stamped in Ileichah. I visited the exhibits there. We stood in dilapidated barracks dismantled in the Wyoming desert and transported here to Los Angeles. I was surprised that it wasn’t the barracks at Manzanar, a camp at the foot of the Sierra Nevada where many from Los Angeles were imprisoned. Looking at the weathered wood, the empty space, it was quiet. We stared at black-and-white photographs of children and families, baseball gloves and broken toys, and instructions to report all Nikkei. My 10-year-old asked, “If this happened today, would we…?”
I nodded. “Everyone with 1/16 Nikkei ancestry has been eliminated.”
We listened to old recordings of hearings of the House Committee on Reparations. “He’s on our side,” said my 7-year-old son when the black representative spoke of his passionate solidarity with his Asian brothers and sisters.
And we waited to stamp Elaichah. Although he had provided his father’s name at the time of booking, museum historians had tracked down the location of the other Nakada family. My grandparents, 6 uncles and aunts, and my father total 9 people. His father’s other four brothers were in the military, serving in the 442nd or Special Forces. They weren’t in Wyoming unless they were on vacation and could visit relatives in Heart Mountain. They then helped move the family to the Gila River War Migration Center in Arizona.
The teacher helped us practice stamping so as not to contaminate the scriptures. Kids had a hard time finding the right pressure as they didn’t want to smudge the little dots on the stamp.
After finishing your preperations, walked from the resource center to a small exhibition space. We looked up at glass jars containing dirt collected from everywhere our ancestors were housed. There are 75 stronghold names with well-known names, and 8 war relocation strongholds: Hart Mountain (Wyoming), Jerome (Arkansas), Manzanar and Tule Lake (California), Poston and Gila River (Arizona), Minidoka (Idaho), Topaz (Utah)). But other names were new to me: Greenbrier (West Virginia), Haiku Camp (Hawaii), Leupp (Arizona), Nyssa (Oregon). Griffith Park (California), Moab (Utah) and Portland (Oregon) were also surprises.
A jar of dirt took me to another museum built to honor the many lives lost to mistreatment. I have yet to visit the National Peace and Justice Memorial in Montgomery, Alabama, which commemorates those killed in lynching violence in the American South. I have not seen the 800 steel plates, one in each county, bearing the names of those killed in racial terrorism. Also, I never stood in the Legacy Museum next to earthen jars from known lynching sites, each jar bearing the name of a known victim. But now I visit these places to honor their names and lives, to comfort their souls, and to remind myself that it is important to me to fight for reparation for their descendants. I was.
The instructions describe the sacred book, its many pages, its composition by year of birth, and the ceramic plaques made from various locations of soil embedded within the book. We do not touch the book or its pages. We stare at and skim through thousands of names each time the explainer turns the page.
When you’re ready to stamp, start with your oldest grandfather, Ginzo Nakata. We each stamp our name. He is the only one among many pages. You will see four small circles of him stamped above his name. Then it’s my grandmother, Kaginakata. We stamp her name with her four dots. On another page with so many names, she presses only one. Next is Yoshio, the eldest son. There are four of his stamped circles. Then there is Minoru, who enlisted and left the camp as soon as the government allowed it. Four stamps. James also quit after finding a sponsor to study in Illinois. 4 more stamps. Then there is Grace, my father’s older sister. And then there is the Father, the only living person whose soul is still here. I engrave his name and honor him. His son-in-law and grandchildren put their stamps on the memorial book to comfort him. There are also four of his stamped circles. Finally, Dad’s two younger brothers, Hannah and Stephen.
When it’s over, we’ll stand by Ilaichah for photos. We breathe in the names of our family members and the presence of everyone else. Even though my 7-year-old struggles with the rigors of this moment, it feels like an honor. My children learn this experience first-hand from a living person as we honor and comfort our ancestors. We respect our families and historical pasts, and by honoring them, we heal and repair them.
Elaichah The work will be in the collection of the Japanese American National Museum in Los Angeles until December. An online version of the name list is available at his ireizo.com.
Noriko Nakata is a multi-racial Asian-American who creates fiction, non-fiction, poetry and art to document the hidden stories we have been told not to tell. Her publications include her memoir series. Through eyes like mine, an overdue apologyand I tried. through eyes like mine Selected as a finalist for the 2040 Book Award.
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