(Mainichi Japan) February 15, 2010
August 2010 will mark the 65th anniversary of the first and so far only two nuclear attacks in human history, on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In this landmark year, the world will see a number of important moments related to nuclear arms.
In May, a meeting will be convened in New York to review the renewal of the nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT), and attention will be focused on the leadership of U.S. President Barack Obama and his goal of eliminating nuclear weapons. Meanwhile, Hiroshima and Nagasaki continue their drive to bring Obama for a visit, and interest in a possible Hiroshima Olympic bid remains high.
And while all this furious activity continues apace in 2010, the Mainichi will draw a curtain back on the everyday lives of those who survived the bombings all those years ago.
In January, I visited the home of Kimie Kishi in Miyoshi, Hiroshima Prefecture, who was born just after the atomic bomb was dropped -- exposed in her mother's womb to the effects of radiation. Upon entering her home, the first thing that catches the eye is a small slip of paper posted in her living room bearing a simple poetic verse: "For raising my leg/thanks and gratitude/make my heart clear." The words are written in black marker, and seem to jump with delight from the paper.
Kishi's joints have been in bad condition since she was a child -- a result of bombing-related microcephaly -- and she cannot count the number of times she has rubbed her left leg and sighed sadly. Before her 60th birthday, she had hip replacement surgery. Afterwards, however, she suffered from pain and could not raise or lower her leg. She could not go shopping without a wheelchair, and was scared to try walking around her own house without leaning on furniture.
"(I thought), since I had been bombed, there was nothing I could do to get better," she says. Rehabilitation seemed to produce no results, and she was consumed with envy when she saw people who had undergone the same procedure as her walking around, full of energy. And so it went until November last year, when during her weekly walking practice she could suddenly lift her leg, and without any pain. "It's so light! I raised it!" she exclaimed in a delighted voice, and went on to show everyone else in the room that she could finally walk.
Her first pain-free steps were not the only thing to bring hope and happiness back into Kishi's life, as she got back in touch with her estranged son and daughter. Her son visited her over New Year's along with his baby girl, who was born just last summer.
"I could finally say to my granddaughter, 'I'm your grandma!'" she says as she stares intently at a picture of the baby girl on her mobile phone. "She kept moving, so I couldn't get such a good picture."
Her daughter also visited, and they spent time shopping and tidying the family grave site.
Over 30 years ago, many around Kishi were opposed to her having children because she was a bomb survivor, saying, "Who knows what kind of child you'll give birth to?" Even so, she decided to have kids, and both her son and daughter grew up healthy. However, she worried so much about them that she nagged them constantly, and they alienated her when they reached their teens.
Left alone, she was confused and worried some of the time, but her children have now "returned" to her. She feels she began to believe that, "If I change the way I feel, the other person changes, too." However, though she has emotional peace now, she knows she will never be in perfect physical condition, and that it can get worse. Even so, I first met Kishi four and a half years ago, and I have never seen her look so bright and happy.
There are about 20 known cases of nuclear bombing-related microcephaly nationwide. Without a good estimate of their numbers and condition, government support for them has not been sufficient. Among the known cases, there are also those with mental disabilities, while those who care for them are getting older.
"When I think about what may happen to those people, I feel so anxious I cry," says Kishi.
It has been nearly 65 years since the bombs were dropped, and as society seems to be forgetting those who became A-bomb victims even before being born, the months and years continue to march by. (By Hiroko Tanaka, Osaka City News Department. This is the first part of a series on hibakusha)
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