My family of eight emigrated to Brazil in 1932 (Showa 7). It was a time of global economic depression, and Japan's overpopulation made it difficult to find work. The government, determined to somehow overcome the recession, began encouraging people to emigrate to Brazil. They advertised that people could quickly become wealthy in Brazil, but Brazil was also in the midst of a recession. Coffee exports were sluggish, and farmers were even burning a percentage of their harvests. Brazil was a major coffee producer and home to many large farmers. The country once prospered by making full use of slaves, but after the slaves were freed, landlords, bewildered, began to import immigrants from Italy and Japan. However, the immigrants were never given preferential treatment.
Families must have three workers over the age of 18 who must work on the farm until 6am or 6pm. In my case, my older sister had just turned 18 and had to move out to the farm with my parents, leaving me, 10 years old, and my four younger siblings alone at home. This didn't seem like the way it should have been, but we couldn't go against the regulations on farming.
The wake-up call would sound at 4am. My mother and sister would get up and prepare breakfast and lunch boxes to take to the farm. It was my turn to make dinner, so I got up as an apprentice and tried my best to follow my mother and sister's steps. It was hard work, but after a few months I managed to get the hang of it. Then I would make dinner, heat the bath, and wait for everyone to come home. My parents praised me, saying, "A cooking boy has been born, something that doesn't exist in Japan."
The farmland we were assigned to was called Chantemble, and it had four sub-plots around the main farm, and we were assigned to a sub-plot called Powderio. There were 20 houses lined up from east to west, with two families living in each house, for a total of 40 families, and each family had three workers, so there were 60 people in total.
At six o'clock the bugle sounds to signal the workers to go to work in the fields. My house is on the western edge, and workers from the east trickle in to my house on the west side, and from there the procession continues north towards the coffee plantations. Because it's work, no one dresses up, and even the women are bare-faced and not very pretty. Each one is carrying farm tools, others on their backs, or carrying small water barrels on their heads, making them look like a procession of prisoners of war. Watching from the window as my sister and parents join in the crowd, I felt a sense of sadness and closed the window.
My sister was relatively physically strong and active from a young age. When she started school, she always won sports competitions and brought many championship flags to her alma mater. Even after moving here, she quickly adapted to farm work and encouraged her parents. She not only did her own work, but also volunteered to help those who were too late, and was even recognized by the farm supervisor.
The year's contract farming was drawing to a close, and the family was happy to have endured the hardships together, without illness or debt.
© 2025 Yoshiaki Umezaki
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