【Manjiro Kase — The Great-Great-Grandfather of Mountain Mouth Mersy】
【Manjiro Kase — The Great-Great-Grandfather of Mountain Mouth Mersy】
This story connects back to the tragic Benguet Road construction we spoke about at the very beginning.
It is said that around 700 people lost their lives during that project.
Among them was one Japanese man from Shimane Prefecture.
His name was Manjiro Kase.
Manjiro Kase was one of the very few who survived what came to be known as the “road of death.”
Afterward, with the support of Kyōzaburō Ōta, he made his way to Davao.
There, through fishing and abaca (Manila hemp) plantations,
he achieved great success.
He married a Filipino woman named Esperanza
and built a family together.
To rise from the depths of despair and carve out a life with his own hands—
his journey is nothing short of overwhelming.
However, Manjiro Kase passed away in 1928.
Soon after, the Pacific War began.
The family he left behind—children of Japanese descent
and their Filipino relatives—were torn apart by the war,
divided into enemies and allies.
After the war, all plantations and properties owned by Japanese were confiscated by the Philippine government.
They lost everything.
Not just starting from zero—but from deep in the negative.
In that harsh reality,
Manjiro Kase’s youngest son, Bernardo, made a powerful decision.
It was a decision for revenge.
To reclaim the land and dignity that had been taken from them,
he swore to become a lawyer.
Anger and hatred drove him forward.
But as he grew, Bernardo encountered Christianity.
There, he was confronted with words that shook him deeply:
“Love your enemies.”
“If you cannot forgive others, you yourself will not be forgiven.”
These teachings pierced his heart.
“Why must I forgive those who took everything from us?”
Bernardo continued to ask God.
He suffered, struggled, and faced his inner self for many years.
And over time, he arrived at a single decision.
He chose to let go of revenge.
Instead of fighting as a lawyer,
he chose a different path—
to forgive, to guide others, and to live as a pastor.
In time, Bernardo established 15 churches across the Philippines
and became a messenger of forgiveness.
A young man once consumed by revenge
had reached a place of profound forgiveness.
But there was another great theme in Bernardo’s life:
“Who am I?”
Born as a Mestizo-Japon,
he struggled deeply with his identity.
In postwar Philippines, where anti-Japanese sentiment was strong,
searching for his roots was never easy.
And yet, he never gave up.
Finally, at the age of 78,
he discovered his father Manjiro Kase’s Japanese family registry.
After many long years,
he was finally able to meet the “other half” of himself.
Later, Bernardo obtained a Japanese passport
and was awarded the Order of the Rising Sun, Gold and Silver Rays
by the Japanese government.
This is not just a personal story.
It is a symbol—
of the bond between Japan and the Philippines,
once severed by war,
being reconnected through the life of one man.
The vast Manila hemp empire once built in Davao
no longer exists on this Earth.
But the memories, the emotions,
and the stories of divided identities
still remain.
Even now, people all over the world
continue to cross borders in search of a better life.
One hundred years from now,
how will future historians speak of this era?
Without even realizing it,
we may already be weaving new history—
new stories—right here, right now.
That is why
I hope you will take a moment to reflect:
Upon whose history does the place you stand today exist?
And how will your story
be told a hundred years from now?
