I have never celebrated Oshogatsu. In spite of my strong connection to the Nikkei community in my country, the traditional Japanese New Year’s celebration has not been part of my life. I know about the festival because of what I’ve learned about Japanese culture, but it’s always been something foreign to me. In my house, with my family, the New Year has always been celebrated with Peruvian traditions and superstitions: yellow decorations, fireworks, putting beans in your pant pockets, and before it was prohibited, burning effigies in the streets.
I studied in two Nikkei schools where we celebrated Tanabata, Undokai, and Kodomo no Hi, among other typical Japanese festivals, but I don’t remember any mention of Oshogatsu. The end of the school year was mostly focused around Christmas, which is probably one reason why Oshogatsui was never talked about at school. The schools I attended also had a strong Catholic influence, so perhaps the religious aspect of Oshogatsu wasn’t to their liking.
Recently I’ve become interested in learning more about Oshogatsu and asked my mother why we didn’t celebrate it at home. I recognize that part of my family is not Nikkei, since my father isn’t, so forcing traditions could be complicated. That’s why I expected a certain response from my mother, but instead she said: “Ask your grandmother, she knows more.”
My grandmother, my mother’s mother, is not Nikkei. She married my ojiichan, Hiroshi, and lived for a while with his family. She has often told me anecdotes about life with her husband’s parents and siblings, some of whom were adolescents at the time.
One time, her father-in-law, my hiojichan, after returning from a visit to Japan which he had left decades before, told my grandmother: “Emma, buy me a Peruvian flag, because I am Peruvian.” My grandmother remembers that anecdote with great affection.
I talked to my grandmother about how my family had traditionally celebrated Oshogatsu. She told me that every year there was a large dinner with the whole family. My great-grandparents gave speeches for the family, sharing memories of the year’s experiences. There was a great variety of food to satisfy everyone’s appetites and to close the year with full bellies. The youngest children received gifts from the oldest ones, ending the year with something new. My hiobachan made Okinawan dishes, and sometimes my hiojichan danced to the rhythms of his homeland.
During Oshogatsu, because it was an important date for the family, osenko was placed on the family butsudan to commemorate those who had passed on. My ojiichan’s eldest brother had died in childhood, so every New Year they remembered him in the butsudan. Learning about this reminded me that, during our family New Year celebrations, we also used to place osenko on my ojiichan’s butsudan. Although times have changed, the people surrounding us are different, and the way we celebrate has also changed, my grandmother always made sure that remembering our loved ones was part of it.
In the early 1990s, some of my family members moved to Japan in search of better job opportunities. Decades earlier, my great-grandparents came to Peru for the same reason, and now saw that many of their children and grandchildren were having the same experience outside the country of their birth. During that time, my great-grandparents weren’t very enthusiastic about having a large Oshogatsu celebration. However, my grandmother wasn’t willing to lose the tradition, so she decided to organize the New Year celebration with all the family members still living in Peru. That way, the tradition was preserved for a while.
One of the central pillars of the family was lost when my great-grandfather died, and celebrating in the traditional way didn’t seem to make sense anymore. That part of my family stopped getting together around the New Year. My grandmother said that for a while, when my grandfather was still alive, they brought gifts to relatives in the days around the New Year, but they never celebrated it the same way again.
By the time I was born, the New Year was celebrated at my grandmother’s house with the family, where turkey was the typical dish served. We also often spent the day with my other set of grandparents, my father’s parents, where we ate spaghetti with tomato sauce and hominy soup. Since many family members lived abroad, I didn’t have a strong connection to my maternal grandmother’s family, but I have always valued my Nikkei roots and learning about them.
In 2011, some members of my family living in Japan returned to Peru for a visit. They hadn’t been back in decades and I had never met them. Their visit was an opportunity for all of us to spend the holiday together. That year, my aunt and uncle from Japan celebrated the New Year with Peruvian traditions that weren’t common when they had lived here, including yellow decorations, garlands, and novelty glasses, which had become popular ways to celebrate.
It was an experience that I didn’t fully appreciate at the time. I was still young, so I wasn’t familiar with the concept of not seeing family members for a long time. Now I hope to celebrate with them again someday, as an adult, either in Peru or Japan.
Times have definitely changed, and the New Year continues to represent that. While I’ve had the opportunity to celebrate Oshogatsu in the traditional way, I hold on to my grandmother’s memories, valuing the family traditions I didn’t experience, while also appreciating the life I have today with my family. Learning about the family’s Oshogatsu celebrations has given me a better perspective on my family’s history and motivated me to continue reconstructing it.
© 2025 Hiro Ramos Nako
