Documenting Hiroshima, Witnesses to horrors of atomic bombing: Tsunehiro Tomoda Part 3, Returns to Japan with help of “eomeoni”
Jun. 13, 2025
by Michiko Tanaka, Senior Staff Writer
Tsunehiro Tomoda, 89, who now lives in Kadoma City, Osaka Prefecture, became an A-bomb orphan and traveled to the Korean Peninsula from Hiroshima in September 1945. It was 15 years later, in 1960, when he was finally able to return to Japan. At the time, Japan and South Korea had no diplomatic relations. Without the help of a Korean woman, his repatriation would not have been realized. “Her name is Yang Ponnyo,” said Mr. Tomoda, turning his eyes red with tears again.
Shortly before the Korean War broke out, Mr. Tomoda, who was living on the street, met a girl selling tobacco and candy at a market, and sometimes helped her tend the store. The girl’s mother was Ms. Yang, who apparently took pity on the homeless boy. She invited him to live with them. However, her husband had already passed away, leaving her with four children, including the girl, to feed. Thinking “I shouldn’t become an additional burden for her,” he left her home immediately without saying anything.
He reunited with her after the Korean War was truced. By that time, he had gotten out of street life and was working at a bakery as a live-in employee. On Ms. Yang’s birthday, he brought her a sponge cake he had made. He often spent time with the girl, Ms. Yang’s second daughter, when he had time off.
Perhaps because he could have some time to think things through after surviving the days of living close to death, Mr. Tomoda began to eagerly wish to return to his home country. Around the time he turned 20, he began to frequently pay visits to the city government offices and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Seoul. However, they did not take his claims seriously. He felt depressed and even thought about taking his own life. Then, Ms. Yang, who had learned Japanese during Japan’s colonial rule, wrote letters to various quarters for him. “I had completely forgotten how to speak Japanese. She sent out more than 20 letters,” he said.
Mr. Tomoda’s appeals from across the sea were reported in the Chugoku Shimbun at the time. “Please get a copy of my family register as soon as possible.” (The Issue of November 7, 1958); “I miss my home.” (The Issue of November 13, 1958). Things began to move when one of those letters was delivered to the mayor of Hiroshima. With the help of the mayor of Seoul, he was finally able to set foot on his native soil in Hiroshima in 1960, for the first time in 15 years. “There were a lot of people, including government officials and reporters,” he recalled.
After returning, he worked for a confectionery company in Hiroshima City for a while. In 1962, on the suggestion of a friend from his days in Korea, he moved to Osaka, where he felt comfortable and settled down. In 1966, he got married. He worked for a stainless steel processing company and raised four sons and a daughter.
Even after he restored his daily life in his homeland, he never forgot the Korean woman to whom he owed a great deal. When he visited her with a friend to say goodbye before leaving the country, she said: “I think of him as my son. I’m not sure how he thinks of me, though.” With tears in his eyes, Mr. Tomoda said: “I wanted to call her eomeoni (‘mother’ in Korean), but I could not because I thought her real son would not like it.”
Hoping to be reunited with Ms. Yang, Mr. Tomoda visited South Korea in the 1990s and appeared on a local TV program. There, he learned that she had passed away. He visited her grave to express his gratitude.
In 2019, he underwent surgery for stomach cancer. Despite his fluctuating health, he tries to respond to requests for his testimony about the atomic bombing whenever possible because “I must tell people that neither war nor the use of atomic bombs should be allowed.” He also mentions the warmth of the Korean people. “Even if they are strangers, if they have the same family name, they say to each other, ‘Let’s drink together because we are family.’ They are good people.”
He says that even now, he is better at speaking Korean than Japanese. He strains his ears so as not to mishear Japanese. “Any more questions? I am not tired yet.” I could see his sense of mission in his eyes.
(Originally published on June 13, 2025)
Tsunehiro Tomoda, 89, who now lives in Kadoma City, Osaka Prefecture, became an A-bomb orphan and traveled to the Korean Peninsula from Hiroshima in September 1945. It was 15 years later, in 1960, when he was finally able to return to Japan. At the time, Japan and South Korea had no diplomatic relations. Without the help of a Korean woman, his repatriation would not have been realized. “Her name is Yang Ponnyo,” said Mr. Tomoda, turning his eyes red with tears again.
Shortly before the Korean War broke out, Mr. Tomoda, who was living on the street, met a girl selling tobacco and candy at a market, and sometimes helped her tend the store. The girl’s mother was Ms. Yang, who apparently took pity on the homeless boy. She invited him to live with them. However, her husband had already passed away, leaving her with four children, including the girl, to feed. Thinking “I shouldn’t become an additional burden for her,” he left her home immediately without saying anything.
He reunited with her after the Korean War was truced. By that time, he had gotten out of street life and was working at a bakery as a live-in employee. On Ms. Yang’s birthday, he brought her a sponge cake he had made. He often spent time with the girl, Ms. Yang’s second daughter, when he had time off.
Perhaps because he could have some time to think things through after surviving the days of living close to death, Mr. Tomoda began to eagerly wish to return to his home country. Around the time he turned 20, he began to frequently pay visits to the city government offices and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Seoul. However, they did not take his claims seriously. He felt depressed and even thought about taking his own life. Then, Ms. Yang, who had learned Japanese during Japan’s colonial rule, wrote letters to various quarters for him. “I had completely forgotten how to speak Japanese. She sent out more than 20 letters,” he said.
Mr. Tomoda’s appeals from across the sea were reported in the Chugoku Shimbun at the time. “Please get a copy of my family register as soon as possible.” (The Issue of November 7, 1958); “I miss my home.” (The Issue of November 13, 1958). Things began to move when one of those letters was delivered to the mayor of Hiroshima. With the help of the mayor of Seoul, he was finally able to set foot on his native soil in Hiroshima in 1960, for the first time in 15 years. “There were a lot of people, including government officials and reporters,” he recalled.
After returning, he worked for a confectionery company in Hiroshima City for a while. In 1962, on the suggestion of a friend from his days in Korea, he moved to Osaka, where he felt comfortable and settled down. In 1966, he got married. He worked for a stainless steel processing company and raised four sons and a daughter.
Even after he restored his daily life in his homeland, he never forgot the Korean woman to whom he owed a great deal. When he visited her with a friend to say goodbye before leaving the country, she said: “I think of him as my son. I’m not sure how he thinks of me, though.” With tears in his eyes, Mr. Tomoda said: “I wanted to call her eomeoni (‘mother’ in Korean), but I could not because I thought her real son would not like it.”
Hoping to be reunited with Ms. Yang, Mr. Tomoda visited South Korea in the 1990s and appeared on a local TV program. There, he learned that she had passed away. He visited her grave to express his gratitude.
In 2019, he underwent surgery for stomach cancer. Despite his fluctuating health, he tries to respond to requests for his testimony about the atomic bombing whenever possible because “I must tell people that neither war nor the use of atomic bombs should be allowed.” He also mentions the warmth of the Korean people. “Even if they are strangers, if they have the same family name, they say to each other, ‘Let’s drink together because we are family.’ They are good people.”
He says that even now, he is better at speaking Korean than Japanese. He strains his ears so as not to mishear Japanese. “Any more questions? I am not tired yet.” I could see his sense of mission in his eyes.
(Originally published on June 13, 2025)
