Most of the world's great cities have some "Chinatown," or "Chinese Street," where Chinese people concentrate, and work mainly in the restaurant or retail trades. But the situation of Japan's Ishigaki Island, having two "Taiwan villages," is rare indeed: Following the meandering main road straight up, and standing on the top looking all around, all you can see are the farms of Taiwanese "agricultural immigrants."

Turning a Ghost Town into a Taiwan Village: Why did they come then? It seems the answer is very simple. One of the few remaining immigrant elders, who also happens to be the biggest Taiwanese landlord on the island, Chohatsu Yokoyama says that land was scarce in his hometown. In his case, he lost his father when he was three and his mother when he was nine, and his family had no property. So when some people in his neighborhood made a pact to go east to try their luck, he unhesitatingly hit the road.

Yono Ota, who similarly came in search of a better life and brought his younger siblings along as well, is much the same. When he first came to the town of Nagura in Ishigaki in 1939, there were already more than 100 households there, with nearly 1000 Taiwanese, and it was already a real "Taiwan Village." Among the villagers were not only "lone rangers" like Yokoyama, who came alone, there were also many who had been recruited to come en masse by the "Daido Takushoku Cooperative Association" set up by fellow Taiwanese. Everyone lived side by side, keeping each other's spirits up, with a very strong sense of togetherness.

But "Taiwan Village" was not simply given to these immigrants out of the kindness of the local residents. Both Nagura and nearby Takeda were abandoned about 1916 as a result of rampant malaria and pestilential vapor. Don't even ask if the island's residents dared to take up long-term residence there, they weren't even willing to stay over one night. The local government felt it a shame to see all that fertile land gone to waste, so they let the land at low rents for Taiwanese, who at that time were still subjects of Japan, to repopulate.

If even the local islanders were unwilling to set foot in Nagura, what was it about the outsiders which allowed them to stick it out?

"The level of agriculture in Taiwan was actually much higher than in Ishigaki," recalls Chohatsu Yokoyama. At that time a certain Wang Chiu-kung brought in thirty head of Taiwanese water buffalo. The water buffalo were tough and highly efficient, making a great contribution to opening up the land. Add to this new agricultural machinery, like the husker, which had already been developed in Taiwan, as well as relatively superior strains like the Taichung 65 paddy or drought-resistant pineapple, and "on average, the area cultivated by one Taiwanese household could outdo that of ten local islander families," sums up Japanese writer Shin Iriomote.

Support from Taiwan: They were equipped not only with better agricultural technology, but also were much more hard-working than the islanders: The men would plant rice, pineapple, yams, and tea; the women raised chickens and ducks, pigs, or sheep; and in their free time they would go down to the river to catch fish or freshwater eels. All of these things were unknown to the local Islanders, who lived mainly on yams. Fortunately, Taiwanese also knew enough to build up their physical strength by relying on animal proteins, so that they could still figure out how to live in an environment rife with malaria and pestilential vapor. Yono Ota, who became infected with malaria his second year on the island, successfully treated his illness by "eating lots of pork every day when I was sick" and using Chinese herbal medicine.

Malaria could harm you, but similarly distressing were the mountain boars who damaged the fields. At that time there was an incredible number of boars. It was useless to put up fences or walls, so in the end they brought over a certain man named Chen from Taiwan, who specialized in hunting the mountain bear. He laid hundreds of traps along the paths taken by the creatures, and only then were the boar eradicated.

In this way, with fine land and compatible people, and with the nearby support of the home island of Taiwan, Taiwan Village rapidly became an agricultural center in Ishigaki. Pineapple remains one of the major agricultural products of Ishigaki, indeed of the whole Okinawa chain. The islanders who had once not even known what fruit was now enjoyed the taste of bananas, starfruit, watermelon, and other varieties of tropical fruits. The scholar Shin Iriomote declares that, "The agricultural foundation of Yaeyama [eight islands including Ishigaki] was laid down by Taiwanese," and no one can deny that.

From Opposition to Acceptance: Although the contribution of the immigrants earns such accolades today, at first they drew ire and jealousy. They not only turned ghost towns into fertile land rich with crops, they "took out and sold everything that could be turned into cash," and they seemed to get wealthier by the day. Further, the Cooperative Association continually recruited farmers from Taiwan to come to Ishigaki. Local residents became deeply fearful that Ishigaki would be taken over by these outsiders, so they began to take steps to block immigration.

Because at that time both Ishigaki and Taiwan were considered parts of Japan, and Taiwanese could freely and legally move back and forth between the two, the islanders adopted all manner of confrontational measures. These included not permitting Taiwan water buffalo to enter, boycotting purchases of the products of Taiwanese, not working for Taiwanese, requesting that the pineapple sprouts brought in from Taiwan be burned because of accusations they contained harmful pests, and so on.

"As far as the local people were concerned, we were 'third-class citizens' behind Japanese and Okinawans, so they looked down on Taiwanese right from the start," recalls old Mr. Ota. And when you consider that most of those who came to settle in Ishigaki were from the middle or lower classes, without any opportunities to be educated, with less than fluent Japanese, it was very easy for misunderstandings to arise with the local residents.

Given the enmity of the islanders, there were cases of Taiwanese out shopping who were grabbed on the street, wrapped in a bag, and beaten senseless. Some islanders even infiltrated the village to start fires or cause trouble. The occasion that raised the biggest ruckus was in 1939.

The origin of the incident was that an islander entered the village to steal some lumber cut by Taiwanese; a fight broke out after he was discovered. Later the islander responsible for the incident went back and got together nearly 2,000 people, and, carrying clubs and machetes, they prepared to attack Taiwan Village. By this time, the villagers, having already got wind of what was happening, had hid their women and children in the warehouse of the Cooperative Association, while the men took cover in the surrounding woods, prepared for a fight to the death with the islanders. Just as the islanders approached the warehouse, and the two sides had drawn swords and strung arrows, Lin Fa, one of the founders of the Cooperative Association, jumped out without regard for his own safety. Using Japanese, he explained the incident to the leader of the islanders, and hoped that the two sides would agree to turn the incident over to the courts, so that innocents would not be harmed. Because of his intervention, a bloody conflict was resolved.

Dashed Dreams: In order to reduce the opposition between the two groups, Lin Fa shortly thereafter founded the "Taiwan Friendship Society" to teach Taiwanese the Japanese language and the popular customs of Ishigaki island. The functionaries of the association also went into every village, taking the initiative to help the islanders resolve all kinds of agricultural problems, and asked them to come be guests in the Village and see the customs there. Only this gradual strengthening of interactions permitted an alleviation of the sense of confrontation between the two sides.

For those who set themselves to pioneer this land, but everywhere met animosity, didn't anyone ever get the idea that "it would be better just to go home?" Indeed, many people at that time couldn't stand it and went back to the old country, but Chohatsu Yokoyama looks at it another way: "Sure there was discrimination, but wasn't there discrimination just the same in Taiwan?" More than seventy, Yokoyama still remembers things like when he was six or seven he and some playmates were caught playing cards by the Japanese, and "beaten to within an inch of our lives," and being fined because they were dressed inappropriately As a result, because they were still "second-class citizens," "it was better to stay in Taiwan Village in Ishikagi. Anyway, the Japanese wouldn't hassle you, and you could be free and at ease."

As time passed, Taiwanese in Ishikagi gradually gained respect and acceptance. Tragically, when the Second World War broke out, all of Okinawa became a military zone, and the majority of Taiwanese had no choice but to give up their homes and scatter back to Taiwan.

"Taiwanese went a long way to avoid the fires of war," remembers Akio Fukumoto, who today manages the local botanical garden. Most people never came back after they left; in any case these with land could rent it and those without had even fewer concerns. "If it weren't for the graves of my parents being here," Fukumoto says, "perhaps I would have also stayed in Taiwan and not come back."

A New Generation: To stay here was dangerous, but it was not especially safe to cross back to Taiwan, either. Mr. Lai Chun-fu, who only emigrated to Ishikagi from Iriomote Island after World War Ⅱ, recalls that at that time Iriomote was a great producer of coal, and more than 1,000 Taiwanese miners dug there. On the way front Okinawa to Taiwan trying to escape the war, "we heard that two ships with hundreds of people had been sunk by the Americans." The short trip from Keelung to Ishigaki, in which "you could sail at dusk, sleep a night, and arrive as soon as you woke up," became the final journey for many Taiwanese.

During the fighting, all of Okinawa was swept with shellfire, but some people still took the risk to sail back to Taiwan, which brings up another tragedy. "That was right near the end of the war. The US military had begun to bomb Taiwan, and the Japanese were running around in panic grabbing people and forcing them to go serve in the South Pacific," relates Yoshiko Ozawa, who is 95 years old. At that time, her mother was unwilling to let her only grown son be taken off to serve as a soldier, so she took the then eight-year-old Ozawa and her 24 year-old older brother to Ishigaki under the rubric of road-building and mining, and they ended up putting down roots there.

After the war, some Taiwanese immigrants again returned to Ishigaki. But now, in a few short years, everything had changed. Because the Japanese lost the war, Ishigaki at this time was under the jurisdiction of the American military, and Taiwanese who had been under the Japanese had suddenly become the citizens of a victorious nation--the Republic of China.

"The best thing was that the Americans only cared about major things, and most local affairs were still handled by Japanese, and they didn't force us to learn English," says Mr. Ota, who cannot resist cracking a few jokes when speaking of this "change of dynasties."

Besides returning immigrants, starting in 1960, Lin Fa brought nearly 1,000 Taiwanese to the island under the name of "technical advisers" for pineapple planting. Although these people have never set down roots to become immigrants, they have permitted Taiwanese to maintain their strength and influence on Ishigaki.

Besides those who came to work in agriculture, a small number have come to operate a business. A Togo family, which arrived here 24 years ago, now runs the island's biggest Chinese restaurant, the Pineapple Inn, and one of the seven largest hotels, the Hotel Marine City. Kaneko Togo, who says of herself that she never cooked a meal before getting married, but who has run the kitchen for twelve years after coming here, today has a son to take over, and needn't fret over every small detail. So she always makes a trip back to Taiwan for a month. Besides seeing friends and family, she doesn't forget to pick up all kinds of food and ingredients.

Lin Hsing-chiang, the daughter of Lin Fan, who returned to Taiwan during the war and passed through adolescence there, only returning to live in Ishigaki with her husband many years after getting married, also often returns to Taiwan. "Taiwan is my home, and Ishigaki is also my home. There is family on both sides, so I'm happy coming or going," she says, laughing.

Land Is Happiness: It seems that the story of immigrants has come to the end of a certain stage at this point. Most of the original elders who pioneered this place have passed on. Only a few like Chohatsu Yokoyama, Yono Ota, or Akio Fukumoto remain, all of them today being landlords with a great deal of property. Besides Fukumoto, who has children to carry on and operate the famous Takada Botanical Gardens, all the rest now see agriculture as a pastime, doing a bit every day, just enough really to get a little exercise.

"Now it doesn't figure to do farming." Mr. Yokoyama has calculated: Workers are hard to find, and wages are high (about 8,000 yen, roughly equivalent to NT$1,600, per day), fertilizer costs 2,000 yen per bag, and transportation costs are going up every year. Although the Japanese government has a policy of subsidizing agriculture, Taiwanese farmers unable to undertake large-scale commercialized planting have put down their hoes in droves. The younger generation, meanwhile, heads to the city to do business.

"The tourist farms and gardens of Mr. Ota and Lin Fa were really beautifully run in those days," says Pineapple Inn owner Seisho Togo. "It's really a shame now, with the gardens all deserted and desolate."

In fact, because the Japanese government intends to turn all of Ishigaki Island into a tropical tourist park, in the future the importance of the service industry will surpass that of agriculture. These tourist farms just need appropriate investors and you could build hostels or recreation centers. "Right now most of the Taiwan landlords are sitting tight, waiting for land values to go up," says Lin Fa's young son Lin Yu-lung. No wonder that if you just chat with any taxi driver on the island, they'll all put a thumb up and say, "Taiwanese are amazing, they're all rich landlords!"

From Agriculture to Commerce: Today, most of the pineapples, bananas, and other fruit on the island are planted by Japanese. Taiwanese immigrants, no longer doing agriculture, have turned to business in produce, buying fruits and vegetables from the main islands of Japan or from Okinawa. Yokoyama, for example, owns five or six produce shops, and Shiryu Otaki has taken the same route.

"Seventy or eighty percent of the members of the Ishigaki Produce Association are Taiwanese," says Shiryu Otaki. When doing business with "your own folks," they can shift things around among themselves when there is a shortage of goods, and when there are too many, they can help sell them. Add to this that there are several Chinese restaurants of various sizes serving in support, and it's no wonder that the produce business is the territory of Taiwanese.

The first generation pioneered, the second and third operated farms and produce businesses, but more and more young people hope to get out from the structures and styles of their parents and elder brothers, going to the main islands of Japan to make their fortune. Besides that, the era of "being cut off from the outside world" in Nagura and Takada--when the Taiwanese would either marry a neighbor or go back to Taiwan to seek a spouse--is past. Today it is increasingly common for young people to marry Ishigaki islanders or Japanese. Perhaps after two or three generations the consciousness Taiwanese immigrants have of themselves as a group will fade.

From another angle, these Taiwanese immigrants did not recognize Japan as home in the Japanese occupation era, but after retrocession they also knew little of the "Republic of China." They only have Taiwan and Ishigaki, where they grew up and where they worked the land, as the only places where they feel emotionally attached. The older generation goes back and forth between the two islands, while the younger generation strives to find their own way in Japanese society. To conform to the forces of nature, and to accept fate in all things--this is perhaps something that immigrants must go through on their journey.

Ishigaki Island and Surrounding Area[Picture]

Source: Ishigaki Tourism Office

[Picture Caption]

Looking out from the mountaintop, this stretch of good land was all pioneered by Taiwanese.

Ishigaki Island is as famous as the Ryukyus for its wind lions and is a popular vacation spot for Japanese.

Chinese graves were built to commemorate Chinese workers lost in a disaster in 1852; tourists often come here for photos.

Takada Gardens is one of the few Taiwan botanical tourist attractions of any scale left today.

This primitive hut was a typical house for early residents of "Taiwan Village" in Nagura. (photo courtesy of Iriomote Shin)

The Togo family, which came here after the war to open a restaurant, is now influential in the business and political communities.

The Taiwan water buffalo, a faithful companion in the pioneering of Ishigaki Island, is today a curiosity for tourists. The photo shows a tourist oxcart on Taketomi Island.

Akio Fukumoto, whose Chinese name was Liao, has never lost enthusiasm for fruit trees.

Produce businessman Otaki Shiryu delivers his products every day; business is pretty good.

Destroyed by flooding, the hydrology observation station was moved from the shore of the river to the river bed.