Talk by Ashley Racine
When I was told that Orchard House commenced the task to fold a thousand paper cranes, I was overjoyed. Having read Sadako’s story in my younger days, and partaking in a similar project when I was 8, I knew what a sense of accomplishment and pride this undertaking would bring to all of you. As I spent time making cranes, and teaching many of you how to fold these squares into beautiful birds, I was reminded with each crease of a journey I took four years ago.
As an English teacher in Osaka, Japan, I was fortunate enough to take a 3-hour train ride to the Peace Park in Hiroshima. Had a visitor to Hiroshima known nothing of World War II, the city would seem fairly ordinary. Today, it has bustling shops, many restaurants, thousands of residents, and tall buildings. Something, however, is amiss. Almost any streetcar one rides takes them past a horrific, and mesmerizing site, the Atomic-bomb dome. The inhabitants of the city do not seem phased by this building, perhaps they have become used to its daunting presence. To me, who had only seen it in books and photographs, this image stopped me in my tracks. It looked so lonely, so forsaken, and so out of place in its metropolitan setting. From wherever we were in the city, I felt its presence. Its hollowed shell seemed to be looming, saying, “Look at me! Look at me!” and always serving as a constant reminder of the horrors of August 6, 1945.
As a visitor to Hiroshima, I went to learn everything I could about the Atomic bombing of this city, I felt as though it was my duty as an American citizen to see what my country had done. We are told in history class that the Atomic bomb was a horrible thing, and the news is constantly reporting how horrific nuclear weapons are, but until I went to Hiroshima I had no earthly idea the truth in these statements.
At 8:15 in the morning, on Monday, August 6, 1945 the Enola Gay, an America plane, dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan. The pilots were aiming for the T-shaped bridge in the center of the city, but ended up being a mile or so off. The bomb exploded about two thousand feet above the earth and killed about seventy thousand people instantly. Those closest to the blast disintegrated, and birds were engulfed in flames in mid-air. Those who survived later said that there was an explosion of blinding bright light followed by an immense wave of heat. The light acted as a gigantic flashbulb burning the patterns of clothing onto skin and shadows onto walls. The numerous small fires started by the blast soon erupted into one giant firestorm, engulfing the city. About 90% of Hiroshima was either damaged or destroyed. Because the effects of radiation exposure are not immediately apparent, it was several days after the bombing when rescue workers began to notice the signs and symptoms of people experiencing radiation sickness. Those who were seeming to recover suddenly became quite ill and many died in the next eight weeks. The long-term health effects on the survivors were felt acutely as many developed an increase risk of cancer, as in Sadako’s case, and other health problems associated with long-term radiation exposure. The effects of this bombing are still felt today in many ways throughout the city. For example, Hiroshima is different from the typical modern day Japanese city in that it does not have a subway system. Why? For the same reason many homes and buildings do not have basements. The ground is still too contaminated by the radiation from 1945.
On my journey in Hiroshima I was lucky enough to be set up with a Japanese tour guide. Because I don’t speak, or read Japanese, I would have missed much had I went on my own throughout the city. This delightful woman was working on improving her English skills, so she gave free tours throughout the “Peace Park” and surrounding areas. What exactly is this park? It is a large area in the middle of the city totally dedicated to peace. The A-bomb dome is there to serve as a reminder of the horrors of nuclear warfare. There is an eternal flame that is burning between two stone hands that will never be extinguished until all the nuclear weapons in the world are disposed of. There are many monuments to the fallen and graves of the unclaimed dead. There is a massive museum, housing many exhibits, photos, artifacts, and stories. These things are emotionally draining to see and read.
Throughout it all, however, there is an overwhelming sense of hope. As an American, I felt guilty the moment I stepped foot in the city. I kept thinking that the Japanese would be angry with me, that they would be resentful and hostile. I was surprised to find the exact opposite was true. Children on buses were constantly waving to us and holding up the peace sign. When I met a survivor of the bombing and heard his story, I was amazed to learn that he had forgiven America long ago for the damage we had done to him, his city, and his family. He felt as though nothing could be accomplished by harboring anger. He wanted people to understand the horrors of that day, so that Hiroshima may never be repeated again.
The last stop my tour guide took us was to the monument of Sadako and her cranes. There she shone, in the bright afternoon sunshine, holding her crane and surrounded by many others from all over the globe. Behind her statue are many glass cases all filled with millions and millions of cranes. Some are fashioned into messages, others into larger pieces of artwork. Some sit alone and others are linked into lengthy chains. There are so many cranes, in fact, that they spill out of the cases and have overtaken walls, benches, and more. Seeing all these pieces of origami filled me with a wonderful feeling. It was a feeling of hope, that others too had realized what a horrible event the bombing of Hiroshima was, and that they too wanted to partake in the goal of peace.
In talking to you I had a purpose. I wanted you to understand why Sadako had to fold her cranes. I wanted you to understand that something terrible made Sadako sick and what that terrible thing was. I wanted you to understand that out of that horrible occurrence came a message of hope and peace that you girls and your cranes are now part of. So, I hope that with each piece of paper you fold, you understand what it symbolizes, and you are proud to be a part of Sadako’s mission.
