Family memories unite souls beyond time.
Between the late 1980s and early 1990s, when we were living as dekasegi in Odawara, we were fortunate enough to meet three of the children of Seiguma Kitsutani, my great-uncle. Among them, Aunt Michiko was particularly fond of my father. Whenever she could, she would invite us for meals and even give me a tip. I was just a child and didn't fully grasp the significance of those gestures, but now I understand that those gatherings held more than just affection: it was memory trying to maintain an invisible thread between Japan and Peru.
Thanks to her, I met her son and his family. They had a son and a daughter almost my age. The older one, Kenchan—his real name was Kentaro—traveled to Peru in 1998 and stayed with us for several weeks. We visited many places, even going as far as Cusco. It was an unforgettable trip that strengthened our bond, despite being distant relatives, only eighth cousins. Under normal circumstances, we would have lost contact, especially since we live in different countries.
One of the most touching anecdotes from that trip was his visit to the Presbítero Maestro Cemetery, where Uncle Seiguma is buried. I couldn't go because I had classes at the university, but he later told me that they spent hours searching for the niche without success; no one remembered the exact number. Tired, on the verge of giving up, Kenchan began calling out loud: “ Ojīchan, doko desu ka? Ojīchan, doko desu ka ?” (Grandpa, where are you?). And just then, by coincidence or fate, he found it. He said he felt as if he had been guided to it.
Years later, while studying in Japan as a Nippon Foundation scholarship recipient (2004–2010), I started a blog under my own name. Through that blog, I was contacted by two distant cousins who also lived in Japan and had heard stories about an ancestor of theirs who had traveled to Peru. The surname 橘谷, when read Kitsutani, is very uncommon. If it were read Tachibanaya, we probably wouldn't have any family connection. But the fact that we share the same reading, Kitsutani, makes the link almost certain.
It was precisely from those family gatherings in Japan that my desire to learn more about Seiguma Kitsutani's story was born. I felt that his life, beyond the scattered accounts and family memories, deserved to be told with the same clarity and respect with which he lived.
What follows is the result of that search: a story of honor, discipline and gratitude that united two countries through a single heart and that, thanks to old documents and publications of Peru Shimpo, I have been able to reconstruct.
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Born in Yamaguchi Prefecture, Japan, he was educated under the moral influence of Yoshida Shōin's Shōka Sonjuku school, an institution that shaped the young reformers of the Meiji era. From this tradition, he inherited the conviction that knowledge should be at the service of justice and the common good.
At the beginning of the 20th century, driven by the desire to represent the new Japan abroad, Seiguma traveled to Peru, a country almost unknown to the Japanese at that time.
In 1902, he founded the Kitsutani House (橘谷商会) in the old Lima district of San Agustín, when there was hardly any Japanese presence in Lima. Unlike the first agricultural immigrants from the Sakura Maru (1899), his mission was not to work the land, but to build a commercial and cultural bridge between the two countries.
His store imported porcelain, textiles, kampo yaku (traditional Japanese medicine), tools, ingredients, and later, cosmetics, fertilizers, and soaps from Japan. It also handled remittances and operated as a small savings cooperative. In a Lima still marked by its colonial past, those products represented modernity, elegance, and precision.
His punctuality and his keeping his word earned him the respect of the people of Lima, who nicknamed him "the Japanese man of order".
Over time, the Kitsutani House became a welcoming place for newly arrived immigrants. Many were young men from Yamaguchi, whom Seiguma taught the value of work and discipline. Working alongside him was his brother, Shinsuke Kitsutani, who possessed great people skills and would later become the third president of the Central Japanese Society, the predecessor of the current Peruvian Japanese Association. Seiguma, for his part, was elected seventh and then eleventh president of the same institution. Under his leadership, the Japanese community in Peru experienced a period of moral strengthening and solidarity.
In 1921, to commemorate the Centennial of Peru's Independence, the Japanese community decided to offer a symbolic gesture of friendship: the donation of the statue of Inca Manco Cápac, erected in the district of La Victoria. Although the initiative was presented as a collective effort, family tradition maintains that it was Seiguma who contributed the majority of the funds, considering it an offering of gratitude to the nation that had welcomed his people.
Around 1915, he moved his residence and main office to the elegant Quinta Heeren, an architectural complex built decades earlier by the German businessman Oscar Heeren. Diplomats, artists, and merchants of various nationalities lived and worked there. In one of its galleries, Seiguma commissioned the construction of a Japanese garden with a pond, a stone lantern, and bamboo. It was a haven of contemplation, a small fragment of Yamaguchi amidst the Lima mist. In the afternoons, he received fellow countrymen and Peruvian friends with green tea. Many called him oyakata —patriarch—not out of authority, but out of respect and gratitude.
In 1914, during his third trip to Japan, Seiguma met chemical engineer Nakayama Taichi, also from Yamaguchi and a pioneer of modern Japanese industry. Nakayama worked at Dai Nippon Jōzō Hiryō Kaisha, a company dedicated to the production of fertilizers and cosmetics. They shared a common vision: to unite science with ethics. From this collaboration came the introduction of high-quality Japanese products—fertilizers, soaps, and cosmetics—to the Peruvian market. The Yamaguchi Ijinden recorded this fact with gratitude: “The development of the market for Japanese cosmetics and fertilizers in the Americas was largely due to the merits of both gentlemen.” Thanks to this cooperation, SG Kitsutani & Co. established itself as a symbol of innovation and reliability in South America.
However, fortune can be as fleeting as the fragrance of a flower. A series of misfortunes—a shipwreck, a fire in Kobe, and the fall in the price of silk—severely affected his business. When some friends suggested he declare bankruptcy, he calmly replied, “When a man harms another, he must pay with his life.”
On February 24, 1928, at Quinta Heeren, Seiguma Kitsutani decided to end his life following the ancient code of Bushido . He was 55 years old. He left farewell letters for his wife and children, and another for my grandfather with precise instructions on how to return the money to suppliers and people who had trusted the Kitsutani House. This included the sale of his properties, the collection of insurance payouts, and other arrangements. The remaining money was deposited with the Japanese Consulate in Lima, which officially notified the beneficiaries. The final balance was repatriated to Japan.
The news deeply shocked the Japanese community and Lima society. President Augusto B. Leguía expressed his sorrow:
“People can fail in business, but that doesn’t mean they should commit suicide. The Japanese community has lost a great man… and I have lost a great friend.”
Decades later, the book " The 75 Years of Japanese Residents in Peru" ( Peru Shimpo, 1974) would remember him with these words:
“A cultured and refined man, with a firm determination and a solid spine, as if he had been given an iron bar.”
Nearly a century later, their story lives on. Their name belongs not only to the memory of a community, but also to the very heart of a family that reconnects with its roots generation after generation. Their legacy transcends events and monuments: it embodies the gratitude, integrity, and dignity that Japanese immigrants carried with them when they crossed the Pacific.
From Yamaguchi to Lima, his life reminds us that makoto —the sincerity of the heart— can flourish even far from the rising sun.
Today, looking back, I feel that that same spirit continues to build invisible bridges between us. Thanks to it, family members who had never met were able to recognize each other, share memories, and understand that history doesn't end with a life, but continues in those who remember it.
That is, perhaps, the true legacy of Seiguma Kitsutani: an invisible link that still guides us between the past and the present.
Main bibliography
The Nippon JiJi (ザ・ニッポン時事). Edition of August 24, 1928. Lima, Peru.
Perū Jiho (ペルー時報). “橘谷商会清権関係の経過報告 (Report on the course of affairs relating to House Kitsutani).” Edition of January 27, 1929. Lima, Peru.
Peru Nichinichi Shinbun (ペルー日々新聞). “橘谷商會問題 (The Case of Kitsutani House).” Edition of May 22, 1929, p. 2. Lima, Peru.
Rhyme Nippo (リマ日報). “在秘帝國領事館告示 — ペルー・ロンドン銀行債権者一同へ (Communication from the Imperial Consulate of Japan to all creditors of the Peru-London Bank).” Edition of March 17, 1931, p. 2. Lima, Peru.
Yamaguchi-ken Ijinden (山口県偉人伝). Yamaguchi Prefectural Education Association, 1935.
Peru Shimpo. The 75th anniversary of Japanese residents in Peru. Lima: Peru Shimpo, 1974.
Morimoto, Amelia. Japanese in Peru: History of Japanese immigration to Peru 1899–1999. Lima: Fondo Editorial del Congreso del Perú, 1999.
© 2025 Hernán Armando Kitsutani Kian
