All Survivors Have Passed Away... The Last Record Left Behind by Korea-Japan History and Borders [On-the-Ground Report]

Lives That Belonged to Neither Japan nor Korea
Gyeongju's Nazarewon

"The expiration dates have all passed now. I just couldn't bring myself to throw them away, so I left everything as it was."

On Oct. 21, at Nazarewon, a care facility for Japanese wives in Gyeongju, North Gyeongsang Province. The women who lived there had married Korean men who went to Japan during Japanese colonial rule and settled in Korea after liberation. At one time, more than 100 Japanese wives lived at the facility. Now, both the dining room where they ate breakfast and the bedrooms where they would wander into one another's rooms when bored were quiet.

Items used by the grandmothers during their lifetimes are displayed at Nazarewon in Gyeongju, North Gyeongsang Province, on Oct. 21, 2026. Photo by Kang Jinhyeong

On the dining room tables were furikake seasoning and soy sauce brought from Japan, which the grandmothers reportedly sprinkled over their rice each morning. The dates on all of them had passed, and even the colors on the labels had faded. Each time she showed visitors an item that had not been cleared away, Director Song Miho's voice briefly grew heavy with emotion. After the last resident passed away last year, no grandmothers remained at Nazarewon. In May this year, Grandma Yamaguchi Masue, the last surviving member of Buyonghoe, a group of Japanese wives living in Korea, also passed away. No survivors remain who can speak about the experiences of the "Japanese wives."

The rooms where the grandmothers had lived reflected their individual tastes. Some had Japanese dolls donated by volunteers, still in their original packaging; others displayed, one by one, works made by folding colored paper. In one room, pictures of Mount Fuji cut out of postcards and magazines had been pasted up. Though the women were gone, the belongings they left behind offered clues to the personalities and hobbies of those who had lived there.

Items used by the grandmothers during their lifetimes are displayed inside Najarewon in Gyeongju, North Gyeongsang Province, on the 21st. 2026.10.21. Photo by Kang Jinhyeong

Nazarewon was originally established in 1972 as temporary accommodation to help Japanese wives return to Japan. It sent 147 women back, but some stayed because they had no family to rely on in their homeland or had children in Korea. Others returned after being unable to adjust to life in Japan. In this way, a facility intended to help them go home became their final refuge.

After settling in Korea with their Korean husbands, the women faced not only discrimination and poverty but also problems related to their nationality. After the San Francisco Peace Treaty took effect in 1952, women removed from Japanese family registers lost their Japanese nationality. However, some were unable to acquire Korean nationality either because their husbands already had a legal wife or because their families opposed the marriage and they could not register it. According to a 1991 membership list of Buyonghoe, compiled when a considerable number of the Japanese wives were still alive, 35.1% of its 484 members held Korean nationality, 33.9% held Japanese nationality, and 31.0% held dual nationality.

The welfare benefits available to them also differed depending on their nationality. Korean nationals could receive assistance through the National Basic Livelihood Security System if they met certain requirements, while Japanese nationals and stateless people faced restrictions on eligibility. The Japanese government also provided living and medical expenses through a separate program to protect its citizens overseas. However, a study presented at the Japanese Society for the Study of Social Welfare in 2014 noted that the assistance fell short of even Korea's minimum cost of living at the time. Director Song recalled, "As the Japanese wives grew older, medical expenses became the biggest burden. Stateless people in particular weren't covered by health insurance, so it was a real crisis if they needed even a simple operation."

Amid these gaps in the system, Nazarewon became a hub for looking after the grandmothers' daily needs and medical concerns. It also delivered food and household goods sent from Japan to Japanese wives who did not live at the facility. At the same time, it was a place where the grandmothers could share the language and culture of their homeland without worry. Under the TV cabinet in the dining room are stacks of Japanese songbooks, containing songs the grandmothers often sang when they missed Japan. Outside, they sometimes heard, "Go back to your country," but here they did not have to worry about what anyone thought.

Song Miho, director of Nazarewon, shows a Japanese songbook that the grandmothers read during their lifetime at Nazarewon in Gyeongju, North Gyeongsang Province, on Oct. 21, 2026. Photo by Kang Jinhyung

But their longing for their homeland did not disappear. "Tamashii dake demo Nihon ni kaeritai" (I wish I could return to Japan, even if only in spirit). According to Director Song, some of the grandmothers said this during their lifetimes. Yet some did not speak of returning after visiting their homeland. The reason was that their families had turned their backs on them. One grandmother who visited Miyagi Prefecture was unable to go to the family home she had missed so much because her siblings and relatives refused to see her for marrying a Korean; she had to stay in a hotel instead. Director Song recalled, "Their lives were difficult, but more than anything, the emotional wounds were deep. Many returned hurt after visiting the hometown they had longed so desperately to see."

Director Song came to Gyeongju in 1983, intending to volunteer for two or three months, and spent 43 years there. The turning point came when one of the first grandmothers whose final moments she had stayed by told her, "Please take good care of those who remain." Song had promised, "No matter what happens, I will care for them until the end." As the grandmothers grew older, they developed dementia and suffered strokes, and the demands of caregiving increased. But Director Song stayed until the last resident passed away.

The shared life of these women, who had experienced firsthand the modern histories of Korea and Japan intertwined by colonial rule, liberation, and war, has now come to an end. How to remember and document their lives remains an unfinished task. Even preserving the traces of their lives has been left to private citizens.

Song Miho, director of Nazarewon, introduces a space where belongings used by the grandmothers during their lifetimes remain at Nazarewon in Gyeongju, North Gyeongsang Province, on Oct. 21, 2026. Photo by Kang Jinhyung

In one corner of the dining room, a paper crane folded by one grandmother as a wish for everyone's good health remained. A thousand paper cranes, woven together by hand with straws threaded between them, had become brittle and dry after many summers.

"I can't even touch them now. They'd all crumble if I did."

This content was produced with the assistance of AI translation services.