America is the hero. This is the perception of our country that children receive in their dealings with American History. We have never lost a declared war, we believe in freedom and democracy and everyone can hold their chin up high seeing our Red, White and Blue. I grew up with this feeling and still love my country with all my heart today, so it was a hard pill to swallow when you realize that just like the comic book heroes, America is capable of horrible faults.
Many Americans still share a sense of blame for the 1945 atomic bombing of Hiroshima, and I'm no different. Inwardly, I took the deep breath before the plunge when I set foot on the Shinkansen toward Hiroshima, knowing that it was going to be a difficult day, but nothing could honestly prepare me for what I would see and hear in the next 24 hours.
The A-bomb dome was a sobering sight in and of itself. The skeletal building, held up from beneath and within by modern scaffolding, was the first relic this modern city had to offer. Chills ran down my spine later when it occurred to me that this was so because the rest of the city around it was leveled. A group of Japanese girls approached us and I couldn't help but smile as they asked us to listen to their short talk about the dome itself. The ease they displayed on the subject was comforting, and it provided a perfect set-up to the museum itself.
Peace. Walking through a museum that presents horrific sights to leave you in tears, peace doesn't necessarily come to mind. When one can stop staring at the life-sized wax figurines of the burned, zombie-like victims and the various artifacts scattered about (most belonging to middle school and high school children), words disappear altogether. All one can do is try to swallow that lump that threatens to choke you as you walk. But peace is actually the most important thing to remember, and it's something that didn't sink in until I sat listening to the words of a Japanese survivor being translated back to me.
In short, everything I had seen in the museum was relayed back to be in a personal account. If the artifacts themselves didn't make you bleed to begin with, hearing her describe her friends' cries for their parents among the collapsed factory wreckage did. I came very close to outward sobbing when someone dared to ask the question "Who do you blame for what happened?" and she began to describe her hatred for the Americans that she harbored as a fourteen year old. "But, now, I don't hate anyone. In fact, I love America. I just hope no one ever has to see what I saw ever again." from the woman who paid witness to unimaginable tragedy. It is the more sincere wish for peace I have ever known, and it is this that still touches me to this very moment.
I do believe, as I read in the museum, that the key to peace lies in Hiroshima, the living monument to the furthest extent our capacity to hurt one another has manifested. There may still be "heroes" and "villains" in war, but everyone is clearly capable of great evil, and until war ceases, this will continue to be true.
To cap off the day, I spent a relaxing evening on Miyajima Island, to remind myself those things we wish to save through pleas for peace, and those things everyone can enjoy when there is peace.
Like deer eating a keitai:
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