Memorial

Unlike last year, I was well aware of the anniversary of the bombing of Nagasaki. It wasn't nearly as intense for me as it was last year, probably for several reasons.

Saturday morning, everyone went to school as usual. There was an assembly held at 9 in the gym, with all the students gathered. One of the teachers, who had been placed in charge of the assembly, gave a brief speech reflecting on the bombing, and introduced a film. It was a claymation story about the bombing, through the perspective of a group of barnyard animals living near Nagasaki. A mother horse and her foal are the main characters. To summarize, the first 10-15 minutes of the story show the foal's first few weeks of life, interacting with the other animals and his mother. The bomb is dropped, and everyone dies, except the foal. There's a particularly heart-wrenching scene where the foal emerges from his hiding place in the aftermath, sees the silhouette of a horse standing in the middle of the pasture, and runs up to his mother, only to find that she's dead where she stands.

After the film, the teacher gave another speech about the bombing. Then a group of students, who I later found out are the student council, performed on stage. Dimly illuminated by muted floor-mounted lights, the nine students lined up and told a story, with each student reading a different line. I couldn't catch everything, but they were discussing something about what it would have been like to have been there immediately after the bombing. As one was describing the scene, other students began intermittently moaning "water!" and "mommy!" What began as one or two in a low voice soon became all the students nearly shouting their pleas.

After a pause, their tone changed. Again, I didn't understand everything they said, but they were entreating everyone to remember those who died. They ended by chanting "remember!" in unison.

Again, just like last year, there was silence at 11:00. At precisely 11:01, the loudspeakers throughout the town blared the air raid siren. They wailed for a full minute, coming up from the speakers elsewhere in the city, echoing off the mountains.

I can't begin to tell you how much of a relief it was, not having to give my introduction this time. The significance of the day still made it intense, but this time I could at least find comfort in knowing I wasn't the newcomer this time, and that nobody else was shooting accusing looks at me.