Visas for Life: An excerpt from the book by Yukiko Sugihara - Part 1
Susan Yee 4/2003

Chiune Sugihara was a Japanese diplomat living in Kaunas, Lithuania with his wife and children during the early years of World War II. In defiance of direct orders from his superiors in Japan, he chose to issue visas to Jewish refugees, allowing them to flee from increasing Nazi persecution. As a result of his actions, Sugihara threw away a promising career in the Japanese foreign ministry, but never once did he regret it.  "I may have to disobey my government, but if I don't, I will be disobeying God." It wasn't until years later did he learn that his visas saved the lives of thousands of Jews. Since then, he has been honored around the world as one of the "Righteous Among Nations." He passed away in 1986, but his legacy lives on through the hard work of his family and the families of the survivors who received his visas.

The following is an excerpt from the book about his life, Visas for Life, which was written by his wife, Yukiko.

Kaunas was a nice quiet city, with rows of old-fashioned houses. The Japanese Consulate was halfway up a hill, giving us a complete view of the city from our garden. The consulate was surrounded by beautiful large homes and lush gardens. Our family lived on the first and second floors of the building; the half-basement served as my husband's office... [His] usual routine was to go downstairs after breakfast and reappear at lunch. I would spend the morning reading in my room. On that morning, however, our habits and routines were to change forever.

After reading about ten lines, my husband knocked on the door and came in excitedly. He had never come up to the house during his office hours. His sudden appearance surprised me because he usually kept to his daily habits. Being a serious and disciplined person, he was faithful to routine.

"Take a look out the window, Yukiko," Chiune urged me, as he opened the curtain a little. I walked over and joined him. I could not comprehend the sight before me. The front of the consulate was surrounded by a crowd of people. There must have been 100 or 200 people in front of our house! This was indeed an extraordinary sight because our street was usually empty and always quiet. However, what I saw before me now were hundreds of people moving about, and more were coming. The sounds of the crowd grew louder and louder. People looked frightened and even desperate. They looked hungry and dirty. Some of them were climbing over the gate. It was chaotic...

I looked at Chiune and was about to ask him what this was all about, but I stopped myself when I saw the perplexed look on his face. Chiune immediately went downstairs and soon came back with an explanation. "They're Jews; they've escaped from the Nazis. They've come from Poland and they want me to give them visas to leave the country..."

Chiune considered this a serious matter, and asked one of his staff, a houseboy named Borislav, to go outside and get more information. Borislav went outside and returned. He informed us that there were more than 100 Jewish people outside and that thousands more could be expected in a few days. They were people who had fled from Poland and who had managed to escape from the Nazis. Those that escaped Nazi capture and slaughter were all heading to Kaunas, one of the only escape routes left to them. It was a migration of thousands of Jewish refugees.

Chiune described the crowd in his notebook:

"These people had walked for many days under severe conditions, dragging themselves on painful feet and enduring countless hardships. Their objective was to reach Kaunas. What they wanted was, somehow, for the Japanese Consulate to issue transit visas that would allow them to travel through the Soviet Union in order to escape the Nazis. The refugees walked regardless of the weather. Some walked along the railroad, dragging painful feet, and some of the more fortunate rode in wagons. "

According to Borislav, these people thought they could travel through the Soviet Union to the international port of Vladivostok, and then on to Japan. They had heard rumors that the Dutch and Japanese Consulates might consider issuing visas to Curacao, a Dutch colony in the Caribbean.

I remembered the sign at the entrance to the park in front of the consulate, which read in cold, authoritative German, "No Jews allowed." I knew that many Jews lived in this city and I felt repulsed seeing that anti-Semitic sign. As I remembered that sign, I felt a chill and a feeling of sadness and foreboding.

I wrote this tanka, a form of Japanese poetry, about the sign:

In harsh German
Engraved on Cold Steel
Proclaimed with an emotionless expression
Jews Forbidden

..It was an upsetting sight, and we felt badly for everyone. We saw the desperate faces of Jewish fathers and mothers holding their children in fear and anticipation. A little boy trembled. The eyes of tiny children were filled with hunger and fear. A little girl sat on the ground, worn out and frightened. I was very upset by this scene, perhaps because of my own three sons, a five-year-old, a three-year-old, and a three month-old.

Chiune told me that a great wave of anti-Semitism had hit Poland when Germany invaded on September I, 1939. This marked the beginning of World War II. The terror in Poland began then. Although anti-Semitism was by no means new to Poland, now mobile murder squads were killing Jews by the thousands. Many Jews were forced into labor gangs and were rounded up and placed in ghettos. Poland would become the home of the notorious Auschwitz concentration camp, which was built west of the city of Krakow. By the end of the war over 1.8 million people were killed there.

It was from these killings and roundups that Jews were fleeing to Lithuania for refuge. The Polish Jews who were able to escape the Nazis arrived at our doorstep in Kaunas.

Japan had signed the Japan-German Anti-Comintern Pact in November 1936. The issuance of visas to Jews might be looked upon as a hostile act against Germany. My husband and I clearly understood the severity of the situation and the danger that we would be courting if these visas were issued by him. We were aware of the possibility that we could even be executed by the Germans should Chiune issue the visas. ..

By now, Hiroki, my eldest son, who was five years old, was aware of the scene in the street below. "What do they want?" Hiroki asked me. He couldn't understand what was happening. I explained to him that all these people had come to ask for his father's help because they were in danger of being killed by some bad men. My second son, Chiaki, who had just turned three, stood next to him.

Hiroki said, "Father, please help them because the poor little children need your help." I knew then that Chiune had quietly come to a decision because he understood that his family had also spoken from their hearts.

Throughout Chiune's life, his kindness and concern for the welfare of his fellow man had been a recurrent theme. This concern was consistently the deciding factor in all of the final decisions that he made throughout his life.

For example, during his earlier career he was instrumental in acquiring the Northern Manchurian Railway System for Japan. His decision to resign his post was because of his humanitarianism. His resignation was, in reality, a protest against the ill treatment of the Chinese by the Japanese Military occupation. The Chinese later recognized his many efforts to remedy problems which they faced at this time. Later they had an opportunity to return the favor, when Chiune was negotiating the purchase of the Northern Manchurian Railroad, by providing him with some very significant information.

In July 1940, making a decision was not so simple. Making this decision was complicated by the fact that his choice would affect the whole family. It hurt me when I looked outside the window and saw a little child holding his father's hand tightly...

Finally, my husband decided that the crowd could not be left standing there any longer. He asked that five Jewish representatives be chosen to speak for the crowd. Zorach Warhaftig led the five representatives...

Warhaftig explained how they had all narrowly escaped from Poland. They had come to Kaunas in desperation hoping to get visas at this consulate to escape from the Nazi terror. The other spokesmen emotionally described the terrible plight. Warhaftig said, "We came here because we heard that we might be able to get transit visas from the Japanese Consulate. We are asking you to issue us visas..."

Chiune explained to them that they would have to prove that they were seeking only transit visas, not permanent visas to stay in Japan. They also had to prove their Polish citizenship. Chiune told the refugees he had recently received instructions from the Soviet government to close his office the first week of August...

The ability to get this documentation was very important. According to Chiune's notes, their primary concern was not where they would go, but whether the Japanese Consulate would stay open long enough for them to finalize their arrangements.

The Jews asked for the Japanese transit visas because of a suggestion by a businessman, the Honorary Dutch Consul, Jan Zwartendijk, who was willing to help the Jews. Of the many consulates in Kaunas, only the Dutch Consul helped. Holland had just been occupied by Germany in May 1940, but Zwartendijk continued to issue visas to Dutch territories anyway. In reality, there was no way to go to Curacao, located in the Caribbean, except via Japan...

I have since learned that Mr. Zwartendijk took great risks to help the Jews. Furthermore, the Dutch Consul said he had received permission from his superior, Mr. L.P.J. de Decker in Riga, Latvia, to issue visas to anyone who was willing to pay a fee.

Chiune told the representatives that he could issue a few visas by his own authority, but that he could not possibly issue hundreds or even thousands of visas. He would need to get permission from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Since an answer could not be given, he ended the meeting for the day.

Chiune's Distress
Being undecided
About issuing the visas
Tossing turning contemplating
I hear his bed squeaking all night.