August 6, 1945. How many Americans know what happened on that day? With my time in Japan quickly coming to an end and with rumblings happening throughout Asia regarding nuclear weapons, I decided to visit Hiroshima, the city where the first atomic bomb was dropped at the end of World War II. I have to admit I was a little hesitant to visit a city that my country bombed and destroyed and I even had the plan, if anyone should ask, that I was from Calgary, Canada. But instead of finding a city bitter by the war and resentful towards Americans, Hiroshima is a thriving city with beautiful and kind people who genuinely and desperately want world peace. In the middle of the city, there is a Peace Park with the remains of one building, the Atomic Dome, that withstood the blast. There are also various monuments...a Peace Bell that people ring in honor of the victims, a memorial to the Koreans who died (it's said that 10 percent of the victims were Korean labor workers), and a Children's Memorial where school children now fill the large display cases with origami cranes representing peace.
While walking through the park with Misty, a missionary who lives in Hiroshima, there were Jr.
High students everywhere on school trips. Apparently the students had been given assignments to talk to foreigners they met in the park and in the Peace Museum. Misty and I had to have at least 60 Jr. High students come up and "interview" us..."Herro, how are you?" "May I ask you a question?" "Where are you from?" "Can you prease point out your country?" "I have a map." "Can you prease sign?" These children, whose grandparents were alive when the atomic bomb was dropped, not only showed no fear in talking with an American, but giggled and laughed and were playful with Misty and me. Later as I saw some of the kids in the park and in the museum they would shout, "Herro, Katie!!" "See you, Katie!" In the beginning of the Peace Museum, the first part is the history of the atomic bomb...its creation, the decision to use it, the aftermath of its use. Then upstairs are images, pictures, and artifacts of what the bomb did. It's horrible. Many things I had to quickly look away from and many things I morbidly kept staring at. There are tattered school uniforms, a twisted bike, glass bottles that had melted together, a stone with the shadow of a person who was sitting on it when they were completely vaporized by the heat. And then there are pictures...pictures of the city completely flattened for miles except for a random school or hospital, pictures of people running through the street with grotesque wounds, pictures of victims with burns and flesh peeling off. And then there is artwork by the survivors...things they drew later about what they saw and experience that day. But the thing that made the biggest impression on me was how the Japanese students going through the museum with me reacted towards me. In the mist of looking at these awful, stomach-turning displays, students would speak to me, wave at me, gather around me, and examine me. They were completely comfortable with an American. It's estimated that 140,000 people died during or within months after the Atomic Bomb dropped. It was a terrible, terrible thing that happened...and I had about 50 thousand emotions when I left Hiroshima, but God reminded me that we are all sinners and that He loves the Japanese then and now. I pray this will never happen again.
