The remaining dome tower and river where victims soothed their burns. |
Sometimes
stories can take years to unfold and be heard fully.
This
story from Yukoh Tamagawa happened more than seventy years ago when the Atomic Bomb dropped on Hiroshima.
I was honored to be in his presence and hear it directly. It changed me - and for the better. Now I’ll
try to pass it on to you.
We’re
gathering at the Rissho
Kosei-Kai's Hiroshima Dharma Center. It’s
a place where a form of Buddhism known as engaged Buddhism is
promoted through study, meditation and social justice work.
All
Souls, Unitarian has developed friendships here with
deep roots.
It
began shortly after the city was destroyed by the Atomic Bomb. Hearing of need in
a elementary
school
only a few blocks from
ground zero, the Church’s
children
gather
a half ton of school
and art supplies and
sent them as
a gesture of goodwill.
A child's picture from happier times. |
In return, the surviving children of Honkawa
Elementary School
sent paintings of
happier times –
a generous thank you.
Take
time to learn
more
about this
amazing story - Picturesfrom a Hiroshima Schoolyard.
It’s
free
for Amazon
Prime and
only
two
bucks for
others. Well
worth viewing.
Our small group with Yukoh Tamagawa and interpreter. |
Today
we’re in small groups and joining
with Hibakusha (被爆者).
This is a unique Japanese word that literally means
“explosion-affected people.”
At the time, I
didn’t know it, but for some of
the Hibakusha it
was the first time they had the courage
to speak of those horrible days. They were only children then….
Yukoh
Tamagawa was thirteen. On
that Monday morning in August 1945,
319 of his 340 classmates were pulverized or died within days of the Atomic Bomb dropping.
He survived because the
streetcar
that
he was waiting for had been delayed
by air raid sirens. So
he was still in the outskirts about
2 kilometers from ground zero.
Yukoh shares his story |
“Suddenly
I felt a bluish flash of light that was like a spark caused by a
short-circuit,” he shares.
“And then I lost consciousness. When I came to, it was pitch dark because of thick clouds of dust which had been raised from the destroyed buildings and which shut out the sunlight completely.”
“And then I lost consciousness. When I came to, it was pitch dark because of thick clouds of dust which had been raised from the destroyed buildings and which shut out the sunlight completely.”
He tells us, “I was blown 20 – 30 meters away from where I had been standing....I became aware that I was bumped on the back of my head. The right side of my face and the back of my hands had been burned and were blistering.”
Diorama of the destruction from mountain ridge to mountain ridge rubble |
He
saw a man
half trapped under a collapsed house.
“He was floundering around and crying for help. I was quite at a
loss as to what to do.” Yukoh tells
us that he just ran
away.
A shadow from an A-Bomb victim burnt into granite |
“The sight of a soldier gave me the most intense shock,” he recounts. “He was badly burned all over with his skin in tatters... crying out groans of pain.”
About
12 hours later and after witnessing many gruesome sights, the
thirteen
year old boy found
his way home. But at first his mother did not recognize him because
of his burnt flesh. And
now
he
was developing a high fever.
For
days
he struggled to survive and then….
A
Korean
came to his aid with
a folk remedy.
Daily
for three weeks the
Korean
brought a liter of cow’s blood from his workplace, a butchery. And
everyday as
the blood separated in the bottle, the
young boy drank the thick liquid composed of plasma and white blood cells from
the top.
This high quality protein gave him strength and sustained
his
life.
This
kindness is remarkable because of the harsh
enmity
existing
between
Japanese
and
Koreans.
They
were enemies. Many
Japanese
considered Koreans to
be inferiors,
less
than human. Like
slaves, Koreans were taken from home and forced into labor. And yet,
a Korean helped Yukoh Tamagawa.
“I
am
very ashamed
of
having despised Koreans whose fellow countryman showed great
kindness,” recounts Yukoh. “In
spite of unfair treatment of Korean people, he
transcended the boundaries of nationality and gave
his
warmhearted help bringing
the best medicine available to
me day
after day for three weeks.”
This
story resonates in
our own world of boundaries,
hatreds and fears based on racial and religious prejudice. I’m
thinking...what
might we do to heal
our own
wounds and sustain
human
life?
Yukoh
tells us about the occupation of Americans
that
followed the Atomic Bomb.
“My
ill feelings for Americans was deeply rooted due to the inhuman act
of dropping the Atomic Bomb. I thought that in general the Americans were
frightful and brutal. So I hated them.”
Then
in 1958, he had an accident. A
US Forces tank truck collided with the jeep
he was driving. He suffered compound fractures
of the thigh.
Feeling responsible, the Americans wanted to evacuate him to Okinawa, an occupied territory at the time. But Japanese authorities objected vigorously because no one was allowed to go there without a passport.
Feeling responsible, the Americans wanted to evacuate him to Okinawa, an occupied territory at the time. But Japanese authorities objected vigorously because no one was allowed to go there without a passport.
Yet
the Americans took emergency action and transported
Yukoh
to an
Okinawa
hospital
by helicopter.
“I
was in the hospital for forty-five days and had operation for
compound fracture as well,” tells Yukoh…. “When I was given a
blood transfusion at the time of the operation, a dozen American
soldiers volunteered their blood to me.
“Although
I used to see Americans as horrible and hateful people, I have come
to look at them in a new light since
they saved me transcending nations and boundaries.”
The Korean Memorial now has a special meaning to me. Their story is often unknown, but remarkable none-the-less.
Inscription at the Korean Memorial |
About 70,000 - both civilians and military-succumbed that day or within a few weeks.
Mass grave |
A chill runs through me as I ponder them and another 70,000 victims who were dead before the end of the year.
I
see children playing on a nearby school yard and think of Yuhoh’s
319
school mates who perished in an instant. I
think of
how
many stories those
lives would
have had and
now they’ll
never get told.
There’s
a clear message here. No More Hiroshima.
In
writing this blog I consulted
notes
from
our meeting,
an autobiographical pamphlet of Yukoh Tamagawa’s experience and
the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum’s web site.
As
my
pilgrimage
continued through the research and writing, I
came across a painting by Kichisuke
Yoshimura, an
18
years old at the time of the Atomic Bombing. I wanted to include his eye
wittiness
work.
But according to Museum rules direct copying is prohibited. So instead I offer this link Kichiske Yoshmura Painting
And I give my own impression inspired by his work. For me making it was like etching the message into my consciousness.
No
more Hiroshima.
Please, no more Hiroshima.