Etching in mind the A-bomb experiences, Part 4
Jul. 2, 2010
by Tomomitsu Miyazaki, Kunihiko Sakurai, Masaki Kadowaki, and Aya Kano, Staff Writers
Sixty years have passed since the atomic bombing [this series was originally published in July and August 2005] and the average age of the A-bomb survivors has risen to over 73. Opportunities to hear their stories in person are now diminishing. The survivors feel pressed for time in their quest to convey the experiences of the bombing to younger people, who themselves are overwhelmed by the challenge of grasping these experiences and handing down the memories of the A-bombed cities. In this series, the Chugoku Shimbun explores efforts to pass on the A-bomb experience to future generations as the difficulty increases in step with the age of the survivors.
Shards of glass propelled by the A-bomb blast remain stuck in the surface of the U.S.-made upright piano. Every time she sees the piano, Tomie Sudo, 56, a Japanese language teacher of Nishi Ward, Hiroshima, is reminded of a girl who played "Valse du Petit Chien," swaying her braided hair. When she took in the piano last fall, Ms. Sudo could only visualize the figure of the girl vaguely, but now she is imagining her form, even breathing at the keys, more and more clearly.
Akiko Kawamoto, then 19, was a third-year student at Hiroshima Jogakuin Semmon Gakko (now Hiroshima Jogakuin University). She was assigned to work at the Hiroshima Tax Office located in Naka Ward, and she was exposed to the atomic bomb there. As the site was only one kilometer from the hypocenter, she was severely burned. She was found squatting, not far from her home in Nishi Ward, trying to reach home where her piano stood.
The next day, she passed away with her family around her, whispering, "Mother, I want to eat a tomato."
Originally, her parents bought the piano when they were staying in the United States to ease their loneliness in having no children, but later Akiko was born. She enjoyed playing the piano as a child.
Ms. Sudo was a neighborhood friend of Akiko's mother Shizuko. The mother treasured the piano in the postwar era, but was reluctant to talk about her daughter. In March 2005, after Shizuko passed away at the age of 103, Ms. Sudo adopted the piano, which would only produce a dull sound. Her mission then became to restore the piano as well as shed light on Akiko's life for the repose of her mother's soul.
Akiko's old diary provided clues into the girl's life: "I learned to play 'Early Spring Song' in my piano lesson. I love the melody." "Ms. Okazaki [a classmate] plays the piano so beautifully." Ms. Sudo spent many hours reading it and was particularly struck by this passage: "On my way home, I stopped by my piano teacher's house for a lesson." It turned out that Akiko and Ms. Sudo had had the same piano teacher, which meant that Akiko was a pupil before her. "When I discovered this, it strengthened the mission I felt to pass on the story of the Kawamoto family," she said.
The decision was made to hold a concert on August 3, in Hiroshima, featuring the restored piano. When the concert was announced in the newspaper, acquaintances of the mother and daughter contacted Ms. Sudo one after another: old acquaintances from the days the parents were residing in the United States, Akiko's classmates, people who had once lived at the parents' boarding house.
Ms. Sudo listened to each of them for hours. Akiko's father, Genkichi, who died in 1989 at the age of 100, told her that he had been opposed to the mobilization of students to support the war effort. On the day of the bombing, he tried to persuade Akiko not to leave home for her assigned workplace. But Akiko had promised her friends that she would be there. When she finally made it home, she was irrevocably changed. "I'm sorry," she said, over and over. For Ms. Sudo, the outline of the family's experience slowly began to take shape.
Ms. Sudo is now sorting through Akiko's belonging and photos, and preparing a video to be shown at the concert. "I never imagined Ms. Sudo would be able to work this hard," said Toru Takano, 65, a former employee of a local broadcasting company and her assistant in staging the concert, in a teasing fashion. Ms. Sudo paid no mind and pushed on with her work.
One pianist at the concert will be the 10-year-old granddaughter of Akiko's younger brother. The piano, which still bears heavy scars from the atomic bombing, is set to produce the sound of peace.
Originally published on July 28, 2005)
Piano of college girl set to again produce the sound of peace
Sixty years have passed since the atomic bombing [this series was originally published in July and August 2005] and the average age of the A-bomb survivors has risen to over 73. Opportunities to hear their stories in person are now diminishing. The survivors feel pressed for time in their quest to convey the experiences of the bombing to younger people, who themselves are overwhelmed by the challenge of grasping these experiences and handing down the memories of the A-bombed cities. In this series, the Chugoku Shimbun explores efforts to pass on the A-bomb experience to future generations as the difficulty increases in step with the age of the survivors.
Shards of glass propelled by the A-bomb blast remain stuck in the surface of the U.S.-made upright piano. Every time she sees the piano, Tomie Sudo, 56, a Japanese language teacher of Nishi Ward, Hiroshima, is reminded of a girl who played "Valse du Petit Chien," swaying her braided hair. When she took in the piano last fall, Ms. Sudo could only visualize the figure of the girl vaguely, but now she is imagining her form, even breathing at the keys, more and more clearly.
Akiko Kawamoto, then 19, was a third-year student at Hiroshima Jogakuin Semmon Gakko (now Hiroshima Jogakuin University). She was assigned to work at the Hiroshima Tax Office located in Naka Ward, and she was exposed to the atomic bomb there. As the site was only one kilometer from the hypocenter, she was severely burned. She was found squatting, not far from her home in Nishi Ward, trying to reach home where her piano stood.
The next day, she passed away with her family around her, whispering, "Mother, I want to eat a tomato."
Originally, her parents bought the piano when they were staying in the United States to ease their loneliness in having no children, but later Akiko was born. She enjoyed playing the piano as a child.
Ms. Sudo was a neighborhood friend of Akiko's mother Shizuko. The mother treasured the piano in the postwar era, but was reluctant to talk about her daughter. In March 2005, after Shizuko passed away at the age of 103, Ms. Sudo adopted the piano, which would only produce a dull sound. Her mission then became to restore the piano as well as shed light on Akiko's life for the repose of her mother's soul.
Akiko's old diary provided clues into the girl's life: "I learned to play 'Early Spring Song' in my piano lesson. I love the melody." "Ms. Okazaki [a classmate] plays the piano so beautifully." Ms. Sudo spent many hours reading it and was particularly struck by this passage: "On my way home, I stopped by my piano teacher's house for a lesson." It turned out that Akiko and Ms. Sudo had had the same piano teacher, which meant that Akiko was a pupil before her. "When I discovered this, it strengthened the mission I felt to pass on the story of the Kawamoto family," she said.
The decision was made to hold a concert on August 3, in Hiroshima, featuring the restored piano. When the concert was announced in the newspaper, acquaintances of the mother and daughter contacted Ms. Sudo one after another: old acquaintances from the days the parents were residing in the United States, Akiko's classmates, people who had once lived at the parents' boarding house.
Ms. Sudo listened to each of them for hours. Akiko's father, Genkichi, who died in 1989 at the age of 100, told her that he had been opposed to the mobilization of students to support the war effort. On the day of the bombing, he tried to persuade Akiko not to leave home for her assigned workplace. But Akiko had promised her friends that she would be there. When she finally made it home, she was irrevocably changed. "I'm sorry," she said, over and over. For Ms. Sudo, the outline of the family's experience slowly began to take shape.
Ms. Sudo is now sorting through Akiko's belonging and photos, and preparing a video to be shown at the concert. "I never imagined Ms. Sudo would be able to work this hard," said Toru Takano, 65, a former employee of a local broadcasting company and her assistant in staging the concert, in a teasing fashion. Ms. Sudo paid no mind and pushed on with her work.
One pianist at the concert will be the 10-year-old granddaughter of Akiko's younger brother. The piano, which still bears heavy scars from the atomic bombing, is set to produce the sound of peace.
Originally published on July 28, 2005)
