by John Kelly
Amanda emerged from Hiroshima station the next morning to a bustling, modern, retail and commercial area serviced by buses, taxis and trams. Coming from Melbourne, where trams were dear to her heart, as they were to all Melburnians, this was a welcome sight. Her hotel was within walking distance and she turned right along Johoku Avenue, parallel to the river, walking underneath the elevated roadway and around the bend for a short distance. It was late afternoon as she walked, and the traffic was intense. The vibrancy of the city, the people, the noise, the unceasing activity, juxtaposed with the constant realization that this entire area was completely devastated by a nuclear bomb some sixty odd years ago. This thought was at the forefront of her mind, such was the strange nature of the position in which she now found herself.
At the hotel reception, there was a message waiting for her.
'Mieko Murata will be pleased to meet you in the hotel restaurant at 4pm.'
She looked at her watch. It was 3.45pm. Just enough time to freshen up in her room. She thanked the receptionist and headed for the lifts. As soon as she was ready, she made her way down to the restaurant.
Mieko was waiting, sitting at a table with a small sign that read 'Amanda'. The two women eyed each other, smiled, and Amanda made her way across to the table. Mieko rose up and bowed, Amanda held out her hand. There was instant warmth between the two women as they greeted each other. Meiko was in her early thirties, small and very attractive with straight black hair, large eyes and red lips. As they sat, a waiter came to the table and they ordered drinks.
'Did you have a good journey?' Mieko asked.
'Yes,' Amanda answered. 'Public transport in Japan is incredibly efficient and punctual. Every time I catch a train, it is always exactly on time. That is something I am not used to.'
'We must have a reliable train service. There are so many of us in a relatively small area. We cannot all drive our cars everywhere. It is already bad enough on our roads.'
'Does the system ever break down?'
'Oh yes,' Mieko confessed happily, 'Sometimes! It is good, but not perfect.'
'This city seems so vibrant, so alive,' Amanda said, looking out the window. 'It is hard to imagine what happened here sixty years ago.'
'I was not born then,' Mieko reflected thoughtfully, 'but my grandparents were, and their recollections are still very vivid; they remind us constantly. My great-grandparents perished that day. Every year on the 6th August, family members write the names of loved ones who died from the bomb on paper lanterns. They then light the lanterns and set them adrift upon the seven rivers. Nothing here is more than sixty years old except the land and the rivers.
'I'm sorry. I didn't realize you're family would have suffered so.' Amanda said.
'Don't be troubled,' Mieko replied, 'it is to be expected that you will find descendants of bomb victims here as well as those still living.'
'Yes, of course,' Amanda acknowledged.
'Today, Hiroshima represents re-birth, and human recovery, but there is still much collective grief,' Mieko continued. 'It is a stark reminder of what could happen again, unless all peoples of the world take heed. Before we go to see Masako, I would like to take you to the Peace Park Memorial Museum. There you will gain an appreciation of what my grandparents and Masako endured both at the time the bomb was dropped, and subsequently.'
'You are a friend of Masako?' Amanda asked, jumping straight to the point of the meeting.
'Yes, I know her. Masako is a hibakusha, that is 'bomb-victim.' She is entitled to free medical benefits. I once worked at the Red Cross Hospital and came to know her there. She lives here in Hiroshima, in an apartment on the same block where her parents used to live.'
'Does she know we are coming?'
'Yes. Quentin Avers has been in touch with her. She knows that a person from Australia is coming and wants to visit her.'
'Does she know that Derek Avers has died?'
'She has been told, but her mind is not all that good. She will probably not remember. Perhaps you could tell her again, but don't be surprised if she becomes upset.'
'When do we go there?' Amanda asked.
'We will go there first thing tomorrow. But now, I would like to take you to Peace Park.'
'Is it far?'
'No, not at all; just a short ride on a tram.'
'Oh, lovely. I wanted to take a ride on a tram.'
'Then shall we go?'
Minutes later, the two women emerged from the hotel, and boarded the tram at the depot outside Hiroshima station to the Peace Park Memorial Museum. It was a short ride through the retail centre of the city, which could have been any city in the world; such was the nature of modern life where every available space was taken up with advertising. It was on buses, on shop windows, atop buildings where neon frames displayed the latest in fashion, food and communication technology. Further along, past a number of office buildings the tram stopped at Genbaku Dome Mae, and Amanda glimpsed for the first time, the chilling sight of the Industrial Promotions Prefectural Hall, the A-bomb Dome as it is known locally. Situated alongside the Motoyasu-gawa River, near the Aioi Bridge, there is nothing elegant about the ruin. This evocative four-storey structure with a faded green dome, surrounded by a beautiful azalea garden is the last remaining remnant of what was a ferroconcrete and brick construction, standing almost directly below the hypocentre. Now a World Heritage listed site, and left unrepaired but for internal reinforcements that hold the structure in place, its haunting, grey, gutted frame sits in stark contrast to the surrounding commercial environment. The two women left the tram, crossed over to the footpath and stopped in front of the Dome. It stood there, a silent memorial to the horror experienced that terrifying morning in August, 1945; a memorial also, to the physicists who unlocked the secrets of nature, and trusted their discoveries to the politicians. A disquieting chill passed through Amanda as she suddenly felt the souls of tens of thousands of victims reach out and warn her of the ever-present danger of history repeating itself. The two women walked slowly around the building and stopped to study the information presented at one end where photographs reveal how the building looked before the bomb; and with each photograph, a description of how events unfolded that day. After several minutes reading the story, Amanda chose her words carefully.
'I have spent many hours,' she said, 'in a variety of churches over the years, and I think I can say without fear of contradiction, that I have never felt a sense of the spirit, as strongly as I do right now. I don't quite know what that means, but what I feel right now is stronger than any previous church experience.'
Mieko nodded thoughtfully. 'Perhaps what happened here transcends all such mystical experiences, because it impacts upon us as something so real and recent and immoral.'
'Perhaps,' Amanda agreed conditionally, 'but how are we to know?'
'Come,' Mieko said, 'let us cross the river and walk through the park to the Museum.'
The Peace Park nestles comfortably between the Honkawa and Motoyasu-gawa Rivers. The two women strolled unhurried, side by side under a clear blue sky, the setting sun reflecting its flickering light through the trees. It was a quiet reflective stroll, as Amanda absorbed the poignancy of the moment, and the realization that she was walking on sacred ground. Minutes later, the park made way for the three low-level buildings that fronted Heiwa Odori Avenue, all three of which constitute the Memorial Museum. Just inside the front entrance, a plasma screen television ran continuously, a film demonstrating the awesome power of an atomic explosion. Amanda stood there alongside other visitors and jumped in shock as she watched the bomb detonate and the shockwave expand out horizontally and vertically with lightning speed.
The frightening all-powerful force shatters the gentle, reflective nature of her walk through the park. Further inside, the museum displays a huge model of the damage to the city, which she finds even more disturbing. Around the walls, murals of Hiroshima before and after together with its history, challenge her perspective and her balance. The exhibits of human
suffering are chilling; the statistics of heat intensity, the shockwave, the radiation, the stark nature of burns received, eye-witness accounts, all firmly stamp their images in her brain. There is a concrete slab with the shadow of a crouching human still visible, stark records of the deaths, a large clock stopped at eight-fifteen, the precise time the bomb exploded, as well as a life-size model of 'Little Boy', the name the Americans had given to the bomb. As if to bring home to the visitor the personal nature of the suffering, there is a collection of household goods, tattered clothing, burnt and bloodied, and an assortment of photographs of post-bomb chaos. The intensity of the exhibits is all too convincing. How can mankind continue to build and store weapons that wreak such obscenities? How can more and more countries covet ownership? What is this animal called human yet capable of? The questions come thick and fast; but sadly, not the answers. Out of respect for the victims, the two spend the rest of the day at the museum. Amanda wants to leave, go out into the fresh air and re-establish her sense of worth. But no, she stays, determined to see it all and let it all cement itself in her memory. At the end of it, there is an opportunity to record one's impressions in a visitor's book. The book is full of comments, mostly expressions of deep sadness, shock and dismay; occasionally an anti-American reference. Amanda cannot think of anything to write. Eventually, she scribbles, 'Such is the foolishness of man, that if all leaders of countries that possess nuclear weapons were to come here, still, nothing would change.'
Outside, in the fresh air, the two women walk back through the park toward the A-bomb Dome. Amanda's mood is quiet, reflective. She tries to compartmentalize everything in an attempt to better understand. It is Mieko who speaks first.
'They didn't have to do it you know,' she said.
'I know that now?' Amanda agreed.
Do you know of the politics involved?' Mieko asked.
'No, I haven't looked into that,' she answered.
'Dropping the bomb wasn't necessary,' Mieko began. 'Japan wanted to surrender anyway. They offered to surrender five months earlier. The Americans knew that. They also knew that both our navy and our air force were all but destroyed. They were flying bombing missions over our cities with no impediment, no anti-aircraft fire to stop them. They said the bomb was to end the war, to avoid a land invasion, to save American lives, but that wasn't the real reason. They had already won. There were other reasons why they decided to use the bomb. It was a political decision.'
'How was that?' Amanda asked.
'Those people of the 509th Composite Group had been training for months beforehand, both in America and then later, on Tinian Island in the Marianas, long before the bomb was even ready. Their commander, Colonel Paul Tibbets knew at least eight months beforehand, probably longer, what his mission was going to be. When Truman and Stalin met at Potsdam in July 1945, Truman told Stalin they had the bomb and were going to use it. Stalin showed little interest. He already knew they had a bomb. Secret soviet agents had been passing on details from the Los Alamos test site in New Mexico. Truman knew the Russians were about to attack the Japanese in Manchuria and the Americans didn't want them getting a foothold in Japan. They didn't want the Russians to have a say in the post-war occupation of Japan. They were afraid Japan might fall to communism. Japan was also afraid of the Russians and communism. So when Togo, the Foreign Minister, asked just one condition of the surrender: to allow the Emperor to remain on the throne, the Americans could have brought the war to an end right there and then. Instead, Truman refused and deliberately delayed discussing the matter, insisting on unconditional surrender. He had already given the order to drop the bomb a week before the Potsdam Declaration. When they issued the Potsdam Declaration there was no hint of what was to follow if Japan did not comply. It was an ambiguously worded statement designed to delay a Japanese response. They didn't want Japan to surrender before they had a chance to use the bomb. Truman wanted the bomb to be a warning to the Russians; to show them America was superior, with superior weapons. Almost everyone in the US administration, had recommended that Japan be given a warning; that they at least be given some warning of what would happen, something unmistakeably clear. Even General Eisenhower cautioned Truman against using it. But Truman didn't listen. He took the advice of just one man, his secretary of State, James Byrnes. He gave the order without any warning of the nature of the weapon they were about to unleash. He gave the order, 'Release when ready.'
He was prepared to sacrifice hundreds of thousands of Japanese civilians to warn-off Stalin. There was a ghoulish desire to see what damage the bomb was capable of; to see what it could do. That is why Hiroshima was chosen. The city had not been bombed before. The city was not previously damaged.'
Amanda listened as Mieko spoke and suddenly began to feel ill. 'She knows more than I do,' she thought. It was one thing to learn of the shocking human cost at the museum; quite another to hear of the goings-on within the US administration at the time.
'How did you learn this?' she asked.
'Over the years, I have made it my business to learn the truth,' Mieko replied. 'It is common knowledge now for those who have taken time to investigate the de-classified documents released. I have studied all the records of conversations that went on between the various leaders. They demonstrate clearly that politics, not lives, was the primary motivating factor. But few people care anymore. Even here in Japan, most would rather not know. It is not convenient. They don't want to do any damage to the present strong ties with the US. It was an act of barbarism. Dropping one atom bomb was a horror surpassed only by the holocaust. But to do it again at Nagasaki just days later, was reprehensible evil; and its legacy is the ongoing suffering that has continued and will continue for generations to come. Children born today are still at risk of major health problems; they are ten times more likely to have a deformity of some kind. Already second and third generation children are suffering serious genetic defects. They suffer debilitating heart problems, skin problems. There are still births, miscarriages, hair and teeth loss, and they are twice as likely to acquire cancer. All this happened because one man, Harry Truman, was seduced into believing that it was more important to send a warning to the Russians, to make them more manageable in Europe.'
'What of the victims today,' Amanda asked. 'Are they being looked after?'
'Yes,' Mieko replied. 'They receive free hospital care. But it took a long time for that to happen. Now, most of Japan wants to move on, forget the past.'
There was a long period of silence as the two continued walking. When they arrived back at the tram stop opposite the A-bomb Dome, Amanda turned to Mieko.
'Thank you for bringing me here,' she said. 'It is important that I have seen this.'
'I wanted you to see it. Yoshiko also wanted you to see it.'
'In some weird way I feel it makes us sisters,' Amanda said.
'That is good,' Mieko replied. 'So, as my new sister, you must come to my house tonight for dinner.'
That evening, Amanda accepted Mieko's invitation to have dinner at her apartment close to the centre of the city, where she lived alone. During the day she worked at the giant Fukuya Department store directly opposite Hiroshima station as a senior salesperson in cosmetics. They ate together quietly, their minds replete with images they had observed at the museum, sensing that the spirits of the dead had followed them home and filled the room with their corporeal presence. Seated comfortably on a tatami mat around a low table, they enjoyed a simple preparation of miso soup, some fish, and a side dish of vegetables. Mieko's apartment was furnished minimally, but clean and comfortable. There were family photos on the mantelpiece, a stunning print of a geisha in kimono on the wall, and a rug she bought in Istanbul. The CD's resting on the cabinet were both Japanese and western, with U2 and Robbie Williams figuring prominently.
'You are not married?' Amanda asked tentatively.
'No, not yet,' Mieko replied, but I expect I will one day. I'm just not ready. What about you?'
Amanda ro
lled her eyes as she took a sip of her soup.
'It's complicated,' she answered.
'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry.'
'No, that's fine. I'm happy to talk about it,' Amanda replied putting down her spoon. 'The problem is that right now, I'm not sure quite where I am in the marriage stakes.'
Mieko looked at her quizzically, unsure if she should press the matter. Amanda however, was willing to tell her everything.
'I left my husband and adult sons to fend for themselves,' she said quite proudly.
'Oh,' Mieko responded.
'Yes, sounds odd, doesn't it? The problem was that I was sick and tired of being used as a doormat. They just wouldn't lift a finger to do anything for themselves. They were just using me as hired help. Mind you it was probably my fault at first. I did do everything for them. But then through a series of events my life changed, and I realized that it was time I stopped. I thought I would show them that in this day and age, the way they were treating me was not acceptable in our culture.'
'Where did you go?'
'Some years ago my husband and I bought a two-bedroom unit as an investment. We rented it out and that covered the mortgage, and since then the capital appreciation has made it a sound investment. A few months ago, our tenant vacated the property and rather than find someone else, I decided to move in on my own. I wanted to see what their reaction was, and I wanted to see what it was like to live alone and not have to continually mop up after everyone else.'
'It sounds like you have put them on notice.'
'Yes, I suppose I have. The problem is I like it. I feel free, which makes the decision as to where we go from here very difficult. I'm still working my way through that.'
'Is where you live now close to your family?'
'Yes and no; too far to walk but close enough by car.'
'You are very brave,' Mieko said. 'For a Japanese woman to do that would mean she would have to go far away. Even then her husband would follow her and make her return home. For the husband it would be a great loss of face.'
'Well, I felt confident enough given that we owned the place and I always thought that they would come begging for me to come home and I thought I would, but with strict conditions.'
'Do you no longer love your husband?'
'Yes, I do. But I'm not convinced he actually needs me.'
'And now you have become accustomed to your new life?'
'Yes, awkward isn't it!' Amanda said as she burst out laughing. They both laughed heartily together; both comfortable with each other, both enjoying their independence and being able to share it with someone who could relate and understand.
'At least this way, if our relationship continues, we will be on equal terms. So, what about you?' Amanda asked. 'Is your family here in Hiroshima?'
'No, I come from Nara, near Kyoto. I have a degree in commerce and I want to pursue a career in retailing. Nara is a small city, very pretty but not enough opportunities, so I came here. I thought of going to Osaka or Tokyo, but they are too big and too expensive. Hiroshima is a good size and not as expensive.'
'What do your parents think of your moving here?'
'They want me to marry. It is difficult for them to understand why I am not willing to fit into the mould. But they welcome me warmly when I visit them.
'Where did you learn to speak English?'
'At school, I attended special English classes. My teacher was from Australia. I knew that to have a second language would be very beneficial, and English would be the best one to study.'
'Well, here's to independence,' Amanda said, raising her glass of Sake. The two of them continued their discussion into the evening on topics as wide ranging as their cultures. But in essence it all boiled down to one common denominator: Shopping!
Late into the evening, Amanda left and returned to her hotel.
17.