Isaac and Papa go to Japan: Day 5, Hiroshima

mrbrown

On his 12th birthday, I took my son on a Father-Son trip to Japan, our very first trip together. This is the third instalment in the 7-part series. You can read about our trip at my blog or view the full photo essays at my exposure.co site.

Today, we traveled back in time.

We set off at 9:00 a.m. and managed to get on the 11:13 a.m. train to Shin-Osaka and then we transferred to another bullet train to Hiroshima. By the time we reached Hiroshima, it was 1:00 p.m.

Our room at the hostel wasn’t ready yet so we left our bags there and took a tram to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial.

Today, we traveled back in time.

We saw the devastation of Hiroshima from the A-Bomb dropped in 1945, from the Enola Gay. Wiping out a city in seconds.

Today, we traveled back in time.

Stories of children melting from the fire and the heat. Stories of families torn asunder. Stories of radiation killing people invisibly.

Today, we traveled back in time.

We looked at the articles of clothing, covered in black rain.

We saw a nail, black and curled, saved by a parent to remember a dead child.

We saw a shoe belonging to a girl, not much older than Isaac, with a piece of paper stuck on the sole so she could wear it longer. But she was no longer around and the shoe was all that was left of her existence.

Today, we traveled back in time.

We listened to a man, a Hiroshima survivor, tell his story of how he carried his friend home, despite being burned badly. His friend was worse off, because the soles of his feet were burned so badly he could barely crawl.

We saw how far the damage was from the hyper-centre of the blast. At a 2km radius, everything was destroyed. I told my son, if that bomb hit our home in Lorong Ah Soo, it would destroy everything from our home to Serangoon MRT station. And cause further damage beyond.

We learned 80,000 died immediately. And 100,000 or more died within a year.

We saw drawings depicting a mother trying to save her child inside a burning house but could not make a hole big enough and had to leave the child behind, because the fires were going to engulf them all.

Today, we traveled back in time.

And we wept.

Then Isaac said we should sign the petition to end nuclear weapons, and I said sure, write all our family names on the paper.

We departed the museum, our hearts still heavy. Then we stood on the bridge and looked out at the Ota River and the sun was setting, casting a glow over the city.

We heard some jazz music and stopped to listen to a duo performing at the park by the river.

Cyclists were riding home from work, dressed stylishly.

Dusk fell, and the city of Hiroshima looked like a phoenix that had risen from the ashes of destruction.

We hopped on a tram to head home, which tonight, was a backpacker’s hostel with a shared toilet and shower facilities in the common corridor.

Downstairs, travelers from various lands gathered in the common room to chat, use the computer, and to eat their store-bought dinners.

Isaac and I ate a bento box set each, bought from the 7-Eleven around the corner, while I waited for the washing machine to finish the cycle in the shared laundry room.

While eating we chatted with John and Wendy Egan from Melbourne who are retired and have five adult children. Wendy played Monopoly and Jenga with Isaac while I chatted with John about politics.

Then it was time for bed and Isaac got to sleep on a Japanese-style futon and use a shared shower outside the room for the first time.

Today, we traveled back in time.

We traveled back in time and glimpsed at what war can do to fragile lives.

And I hugged my son a little tighter as he slept, giving thanks for every precious second we have together.




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