Growing up, I heard countless times about the legendary Niijima Jo, a Japanese man who stowed away on a boat to America seeking a Western education. He became a Christian while in Massachusetts, then returned to Japan and shared the gospel with his hometown and beyond. 

Most often, it was a great-uncle, a minister himself, who would bring up Niijima, and his stories came to life when I got the chance to visit Niijima’s old home in Annaka, Japan. But thanks to a sign on the property and the book Life and Letters of Joseph Hardy Neesima that I have since read, I learned that Niijima’s name wasn’t a Japanese “Jo”—it was “Joe.”

Origins and Opportunities

Niijima’s given birth name was Shimeta, which he attributes to the shime—new year’s ornaments decorating the houses. He was the first boy born to the family, just before the shime were taken down, and it seemed an auspicious sign. The name may have had two meanings, as his grandfather supposedly heard of the boy’s birth and exclaimed “Shimeta!”—a word Niijima calls, “a most joyous exclamatory phrase often used by our people when they come to realize some long cherished hopes or wishes.”

So christened, Niijima proved himself quite a scholar in his youth in Edo (Tokyo), studying Chinese classics, Dutch, navigation, and other subjects. He was also exposed to Western literature, including a Japanese translation of Robinson Crusoe, histories written by American and English missionaries in China, and other Christian books. His interest piqued, he decided to “escape” to the U.S. to learn more.

Given his established interest in navigation, he managed to join a short voyage to Hakodate, where an American captain agreed to take him to China. In Shanghai, he came aboard Captain Horace Taylor’s ship, working for his passage. When Captain Taylor asked Niijima his name, he was unable to pronounce Niijima Shimeta. So, with little ceremony, he decided, “I shall call you Joe.”

The name stuck in the U.S. when Niijima arrived in Boston, Massachusetts, and met the ship’s owner, Alphaeus Hardy, and his wife. The couple took Niijima under their wings, becoming what he called his “American parents.” They called him “Joseph,” formalizing the captain’s nickname, and Niijima generally went by “Joseph Hardy Neesima” in America.

Under this new moniker, he became the first Japanese student to graduate from a Western institution of higher learning, according to his alma mater Amherst College. During his vacation time, he was invited to tour the U.S. and Europe to examine Western schools and education systems with a Japanese delegation led by Tanaka Fujimaro, Commissioner and later Vice-Minister of Education.

As Niijima accomplished his dream of getting an education in the U.S., he also became a committed Christian. He graduated as a special student from Andover Theological Seminary and became a missionary back to his native country. His combined experience in both education and religion led him to a busy life of vocation in Japan, from planting churches to founding Doshisha University in Kyoto.

Niijima died in 1890, much mourned by his friends and fellow laborers. Among his last words written to his wife were: “Do not erect a monument after my death. It is sufficient to have a wooden post stating on it, ‘The grave of Joseph Neesima.’” 

A Cross-Cultural Legacy

Niijima’s spiritual and educational influence stretches across many communities, but I’ve realized several personal legacies he left to me and my family. First, he is the reason the side of my family from Annaka has been Christian for many generations. They helped establish a church in that town, and years later, my great-grandmother and great-grandfather carried that faith with them in emigrating to the U.S. and starting our family history in America.

Their particular denomination did not necessarily transfer down the generations. Because Niijima got his education and experienced conversion in 1860s Massachusetts, his faith was full-on Puritanism. Following his example, my great-grandmother identified as a Puritan her whole life—a bit of an incongruity for someone like me who more often envisions Puritans as Pilgrims from England. Despite not being a Puritan myself, I still trace my faith heritage back to my Annaka family.

My family also has a Nikkei name connection with Niijima. My great-grandmother named her second son, my grandfather, George. It’s a common enough Nisei name on its own, often for George Washington. But like Niijima’s birth name, there are multiple meanings. George is also pronounced “Joji” in Japanese, which can mean “second son,” and the pronunciation intentionally incorporates “Jo” from Niijima’s hybridized Japanese-American name. My grandfather also passed the “Jo” onto my uncle as part of his Japanese middle name.

And finally for myself, I resonate deeply with the fact that Niijima’s name evolved from a Japanese to an American and finally a Japanese-American name. On one level, the incident of the captain resorting to calling him “Joe” reminded me uncomfortably of so many Nisei—including one of my grandmothers—who were renamed by their non-Japanese-speaking teachers around and during World War II. But it’s also clear that Niijima embraced his new name, keeping and adapting it. In that spirit, it reminds me of the segments of the Japanese-American community that now give their children American first names and Japanese middle names—as in my own family.

At another level, Niijima’s name also demonstrates how his identity and experience were not exclusively Japanese or American. From his earliest studies to his educational and missionary endeavors, he drew on knowledge and traditions from Japan, China, America, and Europe. As a Japanese American who studied comparative literatures of Africa and Asia in London, I feel like I have followed in his proverbial footsteps, if not his literal geographic ones. I find myself appreciating and emulating his desire to learn as much as he could anywhere he went and to apply all those lessons as he journeyed through different continents, cultures, and callings.

My own name has never changed like Niijima’s did. But his name reminds me of my faith and family history—and of the transformative influence of cultural exploration, exchange, and hybridity.

 

© 2024 Ariel Okamoto