Old immigrant’s pains/efforts flourishing across generations
The other day, my family gathered to celebrate my great grandfather’s birthday. My great grandfather is the first generation of the immigrants who went to Peru.
We went to mass to commemorate my great grandfather’s birthday, and then we discussed about the life story of my great grandfather who travelled such a long distance.
About 100 years ago, he crossed the ocean from Japan to Peru with only 100 dollars in his pocket. In a foreign land, he managed to end up running 3 different hair salons.
We all talked about how hard it must have been for him since there were wars going on back then and a lot of racial discrimination.
If it weren’t for him, none of us would be standing here since we wouldn’t have been able to get visas unless we are Nikkei.
It was a day that made me think about the meaning of being an immigrant.