Passing on the Torch

If you decide to read just one of my blog entries, please let if be this one.

When I was in Hiroshima I had the honor of listening to Miyoko Mastubara. Last weekend this 75-year-old Japanese woman, wearing white horn-rimmed glasses and dressed in a light pink cardigan, addressed a group of students from Kansai Gaidai University. As Miyoko began to speak, I was struck by memories of my grandmother, June Saling. Nothing specific brought to mind this parallel, just the feelings sparked by looking into kind eyes and by hearing the captivating voice of an experienced storyteller. Miyoko's story, however, was far more grim and heavy than any my grandmother had ever told me. In her closing, Miyoko asked us, on the behalf of all hibakusha (atomic bomb victims), to tell friends and family of the horror of the atomic bomb, to help prevent such an evil from recurring, and to pass on the torch of hope and peace. She told us, "Please keep our torch burning!" So I will do what little I can.

Miyoko was 12 years old when the bomb was dropped. 12 years old. Can you even imagine? It was a clear, sunny day. Miyoko and her classmates, her friends, were working on creating fire breakers. They were clearing away the rubble of demolished houses, when one of her friends identified the sound of a B-29. Shading their eyes with their hands, they all looked up. At this point in her story, Miyoko raised her hands to demonstrate how she and her friends looked up into the sky. We had been warned beforehand that flash photography would hurt Miyoko's sensitive eyes, and now we could see why. We could also see that both her pinkie fingers had been bent and stunted in their growth.

Miyoko was 1.5 km away from the hypocenter. When the bomb was dropped she fell to the ground, and when she stood up she was alone in the dark. Miyoko described how there was an awful smell, so she raised her hands to cover her nose. It was then she realized that the skin on her hands and face had melted and that her burnt flesh was the source of the bad smell. Her clothes had also burned away. Relating the pain and terror, Miyoko said in a whisper, "I wanted to go home. I wanted to go home." On that day, Miyoko experienced horrors that no person, let alone a child, should ever experience.

Miyoko ran through the ruins, the hell that Hiroshima had become, until she reached the river. There she was greeted by her friend, Michiko. At first, Miyoko didn't recognize Michiko because her face had been burned away. For a time, they ran together trying to escape the fires and to find their teacher. Suddenly, Michiko collapsed saying, "I can't go any further." Miyoko told us that Michiko was pleading with her eyes not to be left behind. But they had to separate. Three days later, Michiko was found by her parents. She had died. Miyoko blames herself, saying that Michiko might have survived if only she had helped her to a first-aid station. Miyoko said, when thinking of Michiko, "my heart aches."

Miyoko's tragedy didn't end there. That day was only the beginning of Miyoko's pain. She had to deal with her keloid scarring, submit to numerous surgical operations, survive breast cancer, rise above her own people's discrimination (in regards to finding a job and a husband), and cope with the deaths of her two brothers and her father. All three were secondary hibakusha, who died years later as a result of being exposed to so much radiation. Her younger brother died just 10 months ago from leukemia. I am in awe of this woman, her strength, her courage, and above all her compassion. There was never any hate in her voice, only sorrow, as she said, "Give me back my father. Give me back my brothers. Give me back myself."

Can we claim to understand what happened in Hiroshima that day? In the Peace Memorial Museum in Hiroshima there is a wall covered with 593 letters. Each time a world leader carries out nuclear weapons testing, they receive an official letter of protest from the mayor of Hiroshima. I counted and there were at least 13 written to the current United States president and more than 15 written to the previous. They are running out of space on that wall.

After Miyoko's speech, I talked with my friend Beth who said if the bomb hadn't been dropped her grandfather would have been sent over to fight (and presumably die) in Japan. Beth might not be here today if the bomb hadn't been dropped on Hiroshima. President Truman made the decision to drop the atomic bomb based on the idea that it would save somewhere between 200,000 to a million Americen soldiers' lives. Additionally, the U.S. had spent a bucket load of money, time, and man-power to create this weapon, so might as well try it out right? Many of the scientists wanted to see what would happen. Thus curiosity killed more than just one measly cat. To be fair, many people also make the argument that dropping the atomic bomb ended up saving more lives than it took, Japanese lives included. During WW2, the Japanese had shown themselves willing to fight to the bitter end, even going so far as to arm women and children. Some argue that the atomic bomb was a necessity.

I can't accept this. As I walked through the Peace Museum and saw the personal possessions of the children who had died in the blast (13-year-old Noriko's school uniform, 12-year-old Akira's belt, 3-year-old Shinichi's tricycle), my beliefs were strengthened. There are always alternatives to violence. Always. When it comes to finding alternatives to hate and to leading the world towards peace, I put my faith in my friends at home, as well as, the friends I've made here in Japan.

The Official Homepage of Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum

Please click here and here for more information about Miyoko Matsubara.