Rosie M. Kakuuchi

ROSIE M. KAKUUCHI
Family # 9126
Camp: Manzanar, CA
Address: 21-8-3

We were a family of five be­fore Pearl Harbor: father, mother, sister, brother, and me. Father worked in the produce market. Mother worked as a seamstress in a dry cleaning shop owned by my cousin.

I was a 16 year old, naïve, immature, and insecure tenth grader. For a tenth grader, high school and its surroundings were new and exciting. My friends and I went places as a group and enjoyed attend­ing movies, miniature golf, and going to football games.

When Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, we were afraid to go anywhere. We remained close to home and listened to the radio, read newspaper headlines, and waited for news of our next movement. When war was declared, and we were notified that we would be relocated to a camp, the principle at Roosevelt High School called a special assembly of the whole student body. He announced that the present situation is uncertain and grim to many students; however the Japanese American students are welcome to remain in school as long as they are able to. I felt that the students and teachers at our school were the most loving, understanding, patriotic, and compassionate people. Their support was very comforting.

We had less than three weeks to sell furniture, etc., which my parents worked so hard to get. We were told to pack warm clothes, personal things, sturdy shoes, long johns etc. as we were not sure of the weather we would encounter. All our families and relatives used one address so we could remain together.

The train ride to Manzanar was like we were being transported like criminals. The shades were drawn as we left the city. The train was rickety, the seats were hard. I felt sorry for my older sister who was pregnant.

After the train ride, we were bussed into Manzanar Camp behind barbed wire and sentry guards with machine guns. It was windy, dusty, and miserable. Each family lined up to receive their army ration and straw filled mattress and we were marched to assigned living quarters.

We shared our room with two other families who were strangers. There was no privacy, only sheets hanging, separating each family. There was a stove to heat the room and one drop light. As a teenager, one of the hardest things to endure was the com­munal latrines, with no partitions; and showers with no stalls. This situation was embarrassing, humiliating, and degrading.

School started in September 1942. No chairs, no desks, no books, no normal equipment. We sat on the cold linoleum floors. Eventually we got our chairs, desks, books, and equipment. Bless the dedicated teachers! Our classes were held and we learned.

Being among studious students was very difficult for me. I preferred playing ball or spending time with my girlfriends. We had our student govern­ment – I was Student Body Secretary one semester, Class Secretary the other semester – pep rallies, school plays – I appeared in a couple of plays – en­tered a waltz contest – my partner and I came in first place. On Senior Prom night, the surprise dinner was rabbit. We thought it was fried chicken. I was chosen one of the Senior Prom Princesses.

The fad was bobby socks and saddle shoes and pompadour hairdos. It was fun borrowing brother’s pullover sweaters or his letterman’s sweaters to wear to dances.

I shall always remember Louis Frizzell, Jr., our music teacher. He brought music, produced an op­eretta, and always had positive thoughts. The other person I shall remember is Ralph Lazo, a 16 year old Mexican American classmate, who left his family to join his classmates who were being incarcerated. Because of the injustice, he wanted to experience this journey with his friends.

My parents adjusted to the new way of life, my moth­er no longer had to cook and was able to learn flower making, flower arrangements, sewing, and attend adult education classes to learn English – things she could not do before.

The only personal tragedy for our family in camp was due to inadequate hospital facilities. I lost my oldest sister, who was only 23 years old. She hemor­rhaged to death giving birth to twin girls. The twins died the following morning.

After graduation, I worked in the personnel office as a clerk and earned $12 per month.

Before camp closed in September 1945, my sister and I left camp to establish a place for our parents to live. Remember, we lost everything. We had to start from scratch. We retrieved from our friend, items which she kept for us during our time in camp. We found a custodial job, for a live-in couple to care for hotel rooms. Our parents worked there for a few years, moved to a rented house, and eventually bought a home in Boyle Heights.

One of the things I missed in camp was ice cream sundaes. My sister and I would meet after work – I worked for the LA County Public Library, and sister for the LA Unified School District – and we would stop at Newberry’s Five and Ten Store before catching our bus home, to snack on ice cream. Unfortunately the waitress ignored us and refused to serve us. This was our first encounter with prejudice.

I was married on March 20, 1949, had three children, worked seven years with LA Unified School District, then moved to Montebello. In June 1991, I retired from Montebello Unified School District after 28 years. Finally, I moved to Las Vegas in 1992.

If I were a mentor for a student my advice would be – try not to be shy; don’t sit back, but ask ques­tions; because this was one of my mistakes and faults.

Two words I would like to teach you as a mentor: gambare – pronounced “ga-m-ba-le” – push your­self, go for it, don’t stop until you reach your goal. You can do it. Gaman – pronounced “ga-ma-n” – to endure - gaman carried us through the trying years before and after camp.

So stick it out no matter what the odds – make the most of what you have. “Hang in there.”

Wind and Dust
This wind and dust I have to bear
How hard it blows I do not care.
But when the wind begins to blow –
­My morale is pretty low.
I know that I can see it through
Because others have to bear it too.
So I will bear it with the rest
And hope the outcome is the best.
– George Nishimura, age 16 (Manzanar, 1943)

Read this to learn more about the demographics of each of the ten facilities administered by the War Relocation Authority.

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