It's not easy to summarize the Hiroshima experience. Even though we prepared ourselves by watching documentaries about Japan's involvement in WWII and the atomic bomb and by reading two excellent books (The Crazy Iris and other Stories of the Atomic Aftermath and Hiroshima Notes), being in Hiroshima was still intense and sobering. But I guess that is what it is meant to be.
The Peace Memorial Museum has excellent displays. There are amazing panoramas of Hiroshima both before and after the bombing. There's an awe-inspiring 3-D experience of the bombing.
Particularly meaningful to me was the artwork and the memoirs written by parents who lost children to the bomb. These included the last words their children spoke: "Please let me go to where Dad is." (The father had died in the bombing.) "It hurts. It hurts. . . . I will sleep." "Mom, you must not cry. I knew we students could not survive such a great war. . . Mom, do good to other people."
One mother wrote of the marbles she found in the burnt ruins of their home. She kept the marbles as a memento of her 15-year-old son Toshihiko, who died two weeks after the bombing. There were many such artifacts donated by families of the victims, along with their heartfelt, moving stories.
Learning of the "black rain" was especially meaningful to Bob because it showed how tragic the suffering was of those who did not die instantly. Survivors were so thirsty that they drank the rain falling from the sky, not knowing that it was dust, dirt, and soot from the explosion that had risen into the air, become radioactive, mixed with water vapor in the air, and fallen back to earth as "black rain." Bob and I talked about whether it would be preferable to die instantly (as approximately 70,000 people did) or to have a day, a week, or a month living in sheer agony and then dying (as roughly 70,000 people did). It's even more sobering to realize the extent of the long-term effects for many who survived, including blindness, leukemia and other cancers, infertility, the fear of bearing children, and the keloid scars that caused some to totally isolate themselves from the world. The two books we read aided our understanding of the long-term effects.
The poem by Akiko Takakura reads as follows:
Black, black rain.
Huge drops.
People craned their necks
to the sky
With their mouths wide open.
Hot bodies, so very hot,
They wanted water
Barack Obama visited Hiroshima in 2016, the first sitting U.S. president to do so. The paper cranes he made, as well as his hand-written message, are encased in glass in the museum. My students think of his visit as one of the top news stories in Japan of 2016. His message reads as follows: We have known the agony of war. Let us now find the courage, together, to spread peace, and pursue a world without nuclear weapons. Ironic, I think, considering the American military monster of today.
Memorial Hall was also poignant, with its panorama of Hiroshima made with 140,000 tiny tiles for the 140,000 victims in 1945.
There is also a digital display of victims with their photographs and their names in Japanese and English. The display shows about 100 pictures at a time. I stood gazing at the beautiful smiles and faces for maybe 10 minutes, wondering how many hours in total one would stand to see all the photos in the display, thinking of the people who had suffered and lost their lives.
Outside in the Peace Park, there were signs of life and hope. Tourists and Hiroshima natives alike strolled through the walkway, ringing the peace bell, looking at the thousands upon thousands of paper cranes, sitting by the river, listening to live music being sung and played by school children. The sunny weekend, as well as the ultra-modernity yet gentleness of Hiroshima, make the city a beautiful place to meander, to remember what happened 72 years ago, and to believe in and hope for a more peaceful world.
The Atomic Bomb Dome is the stunning backdrop along the river, visible from the opposite end of the Peace Park. The remains of this great hall, a World Heritage Site, is a reminder of the first ever nuclear attack, a memorial to those who were killed. Since our hotel was only a few blocks away, we returned to the dome again and again.
One mother wrote of the marbles she found in the burnt ruins of their home. She kept the marbles as a memento of her 15-year-old son Toshihiko, who died two weeks after the bombing. There were many such artifacts donated by families of the victims, along with their heartfelt, moving stories.
Black, black rain.
Huge drops.
People craned their necks
to the sky
With their mouths wide open.
Hot bodies, so very hot,
They wanted water
Barack Obama visited Hiroshima in 2016, the first sitting U.S. president to do so. The paper cranes he made, as well as his hand-written message, are encased in glass in the museum. My students think of his visit as one of the top news stories in Japan of 2016. His message reads as follows: We have known the agony of war. Let us now find the courage, together, to spread peace, and pursue a world without nuclear weapons. Ironic, I think, considering the American military monster of today.
Back home from our trip, I will continue to believe in and hope for a more peaceful world. I will continue to pray for peace.
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