By D. W. G. Kalani Tharanga, JadeTimes News
In the early morning heat of August 6, 1945, 15 year old Chieko Kiriake wiped sweat from her brow as she sought shade. Suddenly, a blinding light enveloped her a sight unlike anything she had ever seen. It was 08:15 when the United States dropped the first atomic bomb on her hometown of Hiroshima. "It felt like the sun had fallen, and I grew dizzy," Chieko recalls. The bomb marked the first use of nuclear weapons in warfare, as World War II continued in the Pacific despite Germany's surrender in Europe.
Chieko, a student conscripted to work in wartime factories, staggered to her school carrying an injured friend. Many students were severely burned, and Chieko applied old oil found in the home economics classroom to their wounds. "That was the only treatment we could give them. They died one after the next," she remembers. She and other surviving students were instructed by their teachers to dig a hole in the playground to cremate their classmates. "I felt so awful for them," she says.
Today, Chieko is 94 years old, one of the remaining hibakusha a Japanese term meaning "bomb affected people." Nearly 80 years have passed since the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but time is running out for these survivors to share their experiences. Many have endured lifelong health issues, lost loved ones, and faced discrimination. Now, they are telling their stories in Two film to ensure the past serves as a warning for the future.
Bearing Witness, The Lifelong Impact of the Atomic Bomb on Hiroshima's Survivors
The hibakusha have not only lived with the physical and emotional scars of the bombings but have also faced societal challenges and discrimination. The majority were children when the bombs were dropped, and as global conflicts escalate, they feel an urgent need to share their testimonies. "We must not allow the hell of the atomic bombing to be recreated," says 86 year old Michiko Kodama, who speaks out for nuclear disarmament. "I feel a sense of crisis."
Michiko was seven years old and at school when the bomb hit Hiroshima. "Through the windows of my classroom, there was an intense light speeding towards us. It was yellow, orange, silver," she describes. The explosion shattered windows and sent debris flying, while the ceiling collapsed. Michiko hid under a desk and, after the blast, saw her classmates trapped under the rubble. Her father carried her home through a scene of utter devastation. "It was a scene from hell," Michiko recalls. "The people escaping towards us had most of their clothes burned away, and their flesh was melting."
Radiation poisoning, increased leukemia, and cancer were among the long term effects on the survivors. Michiko's family moved just weeks before the bombing, which saved her life, but she lost her mother, father, brothers, and daughter to cancer. "I feel lonely, angry, and scared," she admits. "I wonder if it may be my turn next."
Sueichi Kido, who was five years old and living 2km from the Nagasaki blast's epicenter, also shares his harrowing experience. His mother shielded him from the full impact, but he suffered burns to his face. For years, he believed a red oil can caused the explosion, as his parents shielded him from the truth. "We hibakusha have never given up on our mission of preventing the creation of any more hibakusha," says Sueichi, now 83, who recently spoke at the United Nations to warn against nuclear weapons.
As these survivors age, their mission becomes even more critical. Kiyomi Iguro, who was 19 when the bomb hit Nagasaki, died recently at 98 but remained dedicated to peace until her last days. She visited Nagasaki's Peace Park to ring the bell at 11:02 the time the bomb struck wishing for a world without nuclear weapons. Sueichi, who taught Japanese history, feels a sense of duty to speak out. "A sense that I was a special person was born in me," he says. The hibakusha's enduring determination to ensure the past never becomes the present is a powerful testament to the resilience of the human spirit.
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