The legacy of colonization holds many dark secrets, and one of them is the heart-wrenching story of Afro-Japanese babies born in the Democratic Republic of Congo. While we've heard stories of children abducted from their maternal families in various African regions during colonization, this is a lesser-known chapter that involves Japan's role in the systematic abduction and infanticide of biracial children.
Apart from exploiting Africa for its rich resources, Japan was a significant player in the mining industry, specifically in the southeastern region of Katanga Province in the Democratic Republic of Congo. This area is known for producing approximately 70 percent of the world's cobalt and copper. During the 1970s, the Japanese government dispatched miners to work in these mineral-rich mines.
These Japanese miners were forbidden from forming relationships with native women, as Japan was not prepared to repatriate any biracial children. To enforce this policy, the miners were strictly confined to camps. Any transgression, such as engaging with local women, resulted in immediate deportation back to Japan.
Despite these strict rules, some Japanese men formed intimate relationships with Congolese women and had children. Tragically, a sinister pattern emerged: the mixed-race infants born of these unions would often die shortly after birth.
In 2010, France 24's investigative reporters, Arnaud Zajtman and Marlène Rabaud, uncovered the heart-wrenching stories of mothers who had lost their mixed-race babies and survivors of the Katanga Infanticide.
The mothers shared a common experience – they had taken their infants to the local mining hospital, which was led by Japanese physicians and nurses. When news of the baby deaths spread, pregnant mothers who were expecting children with Japanese miners went into hiding.
One poignant account came from a woman named Yvonne, whose mixed-race child had died under mysterious circumstances. She recounted the story of her child's death and the ordeal she had faced. Yvonne's son was buried near Calama, not far from their home.
Like other mothers, Yvonne had taken her son to the hospital along with his father. A Japanese doctor had taken the child inside, and when he was returned to her, he was no longer alive.
Another woman shared her heart-wrenching story, describing how she left her baby with his father to fetch water. Upon her return, her child was weak, so she rushed him to the hospital, where he ultimately passed away.
These are just a few among many similar stories, with mothers strongly believing that the camp doctors and their children's fathers had conspired to end their infants' lives.
The graves of mixed-race children can still be found in Katanga, a haunting reminder of this tragic history.
Today, there are around fifty Afro-Japanese survivors of this infanticide. Many grew up in secrecy, hidden from the world. Years later, they united to form an association and sought legal counsel to push for a formal investigation into these killings. They submitted official inquiries to both the Congolese and Japanese governments, but Japan has yet to respond to these requests.
These survivors, who lack birth certificates due to being born outside hospitals, have received no citizenship, compensation, recognition, apologies, or even acknowledgement from the Japanese government. Justice remains elusive over 53 years later.
What are your thoughts on this deeply saddening chapter in history?
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I would also like to credit Jessica Uchechi Nwanguma, a writer who has done research
on that story and enlightened me as well.
