![]() Although my grandmother Matsuno lived for another 16 years, I wasn’t able to spend a lot of time with her because I soon left for the capital to study at university. Life continued its inevitable course and unfortunately, my grandfather Kiyoshi died when I was just 11 years old. I have very few memories of my childhood that don’t involve my grandparents, and therefore, Japan. Although my grandparents spoke Spanish with an accent, it wasn’t difficult to understand them. At the time, my grandfather was a widower with two children, and my grandmother was a widow with a daughter of her own fortunately, the three grew up together like true siblings. They had married ten years after my grandfather’s first wife had died. I grew up in a tranquil place, accompanied by my grandparents Kiyoshi and Matsuno. My childhood was spent in the city of Iquique, in the arid desert of northern Chile. This eventually led me to obtain my grandfather’s Koseki (Japanese family record), and as a result I developed a clearer image of the person who I now consider my hero: my grandfather, Kiyoshi Kuwahara. ![]() Thanks to Pioneros (Pioneers), a database of Japanese immigrants in Peru (1899-1941), for the first time I was able to obtain information about my grandfather, Kiyoshi. ![]() Over time, my concept of who is a hero has changed substantially, and the people I admired for their accomplishments and virtues when I was a girl are not the same people I admire today. ![]()
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