DUANE
Duane's take
Here's my telling of what the official marker at this site has to say — and friend, it is worth every mile. Somewhere in Orange County, Texas, there is a cemetery that started in 1910. One grave.
A young colonist named T. Toba. That's where this story ends — or rather, where it pauses.
Let me back up and tell you how it began. A man named Kichimatsu Kishi came from Japan. He had served in the Russo-Japanese War, 1904 to 1905, so he already knew something about hard ground and harder times.
And yet in 1908 he looked at a stretch of Southeast Texas soil and saw a future. He established an agricultural colony right here at this site. The first settlers were Japanese tenant farmers.
They brought with them the traditions of their homeland, and here is the thing that strikes you when you hear it — despite earning American citizenship, despite adopting several Western customs over the years, they held onto those traditions. That is not stubbornness. That is an act of will, quiet and steady as rice growing in still water.
And rice is exactly what this land wanted to grow. The soil was fertile, the water was abundant, and the colony found its footing in rice production. Several other crops were raised here too, and in time the settlement grew beyond its founding families.
Workers of Mexican descent joined them. Workers of French Louisiana descent joined them. Kishi saw a community taking shape, and he acted like a man who meant for it to last.
He deeded land for a church. He deeded land for a school. That is not the act of a man thinking small.
But the world does not always reward a man for thinking big. Unstable market prices came first. Then damaged crops.
Then financial hardships that piled one on top of another like a slow flood you cannot quite outrun. And when the economic Depression of the 1930s arrived, it finished what the hard years had started. The colony declined and then, simply, ended.
Some settlers moved to other states. Many stayed. And when World War II came calling, several of the men from this colony — this Japanese-founded, multi-culture, Southeast Texas settlement — served with American forces.
Sit with that a moment. Kichimatsu Kishi died in 1956. By then his colony had already passed into history, but not without leaving something real behind.
The Kishi colony was instrumental in the economic growth of Orange County. That is the marker's plain judgment, and it is not a small thing. Today only the cemetery and a few structures remain at the site.
But descendants of the original settlers still live in Southeast Texas. The land changed hands. The colony ended.
And yet some part of what Kishi built in 1908 is still walking around out here. That cemetery that started with T. Toba in 1910 — it was never just an ending.
It was proof the colony was real enough to bury its own.
What the marker says
Japanese native Kichimatsu Kishi (d. 1956), a veteran of the Russo-Japanese War, 1904-05, established an agricultural colony at this site in 1908. The first settlers were Japanese tenant farmers. Despite their eventual American citizenship and the adoption of several Western customs, they managed to maintain the traditions of their homeland. Several crops were raised here, but the fertile soil and abundant water were best suited for rice production. Later, workers of Mexican and French Louisiana descent joined the settlement. In order to serve the growing colony, Kishi deeded land for a church and a school. A nearby cemetery was started in 1910 for the burial of a young colonist, T. Toba. Unstable market prices, damaged crops, and financial hardships led to the decline of the colony. The end came as a result of the economic Depression of the 1930s. Some settlers moved to other states, but many remained. Several of the men served with American forces during World War II. The Kishi colony was instrumental in the economic growth of Orange County. Only the cemetery and a few structures mark the site, but descendants of original settlers still live in Southeast Texas.