It’s difficult to pick one exhibit in the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum as the most striking to me when the museum’s overarching narrative itself had a powerful impact. However, if I had to choose one it would be the excerpt from the boy Kazuo’s diary. The excerpt, spanning over three years, begins with the line “I will absolutely not die.” For the first year, it is filled with entries that highlight Kazuo’s fiery spirit, his dreams and visions of the future, and his ponderings of the legacy of the Hiroshima bombing. As time goes on, however, these entries reveal Kazuo’s increasing pain and weakening spirit. On the last entry, it simply says “I’m tired all day.” Soon after, Kazuo died.
“I will absolutely not die.” “I don’t want to die.” “Please don’t let me die.” Similar cries fill the entire museum. The fear of death, the desire to live, the guilt from loved ones who feel they cannot do anything: these sentiments were the ones that touched me most deeply. Perhaps it’s because their narrative is so personal, but these were the stories that put me most clearly into the moment. They were the ones I took the most pictures of, the ones that made me think to myself I must not forget this feeling.
Seeing Kazuo’s exhibit, as well as Sadako’s and many others, I was reminded of the Evening of Calm manga. The narrative of them all reflect each other. These stories show how devastation and destruction did not end after the blast of the bomb; the bomb itself was just a catalyst for a continuous cycle of pain. Trauma, isolation, guilt, grief, agony. These feelings do not end, not even now.
Even after emerging from the darkness of the first exhibition, the museum offers no happy ending. After you reach the end of the bright and quiet hall that looks out at the memorial statue, there is one last picture. It shows on the left a child, burned. On the right is the same child at 20, looking healthy and happy. The image on the right is deceiving, however. Upon reading the accompanying text, it tells of how she survived the bombing and began working at 20; however, soon after she started having health complications. She got cancer and died at 42.
I must not forget this feeling. I continue to think that now. I want other people to know this feeling, because if they did then maybe they would be less willing to distance themselves from the suffering of others. One of the last exhibits mirrored my thoughts when it said how, as time goes on, the younger generations are becoming distant from the disaster that preceded them. To them, although it’s a tragic memory, it’s something in the past. And, thus, it’s harmless. But the exhibit calls for the stories to be told, from survivors to younger generations, and from younger generations to generations to come. The museum asks that the past not be forgotten. Which is, I think, why it’s important that we had this excursion and this reflection. Of all the things I have done in this class, I think that visiting the Hiroshima Peace Memorial was the most meaningful.
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