Thursday, October 06, 2005

Ryushin's Recollections: Part VII

Hiroshima Peace Day

We woke up the next morning and sat zazen (meditation) with Hojo-san as we had the day before. We had our chanting service, a short breakfast, and period of temple cleaning. We were told that we would leave Zensho-ji at 7am in order to be at the park early. When the bus drove up we realized that it was a city bus. We loaded in and, fortunately, did not have many large personal bags to bring, just the Jizos for Peace items.

Hogen informed Genmyo and me that we would be watching over the supplies when we arrived. Taiken-san and Ikki-san had left slightly earlier to drive into the park and unload Jizos for Peace pamphlets describing the pilgrimage, banners, prayer flags, kimonos, etc. When we got to the park we found that, due to traffic, the bus could not get us to where we wanted to go. We got out and began walking to our various destinations.

There were essentially three locations for the pilgrims. Genmyo and I were standing guard by our supplies. It turned out that Taiken-san and Ikki-san placed the supplies in a completely different part of the park, but a part that we passed by chance.

There was also a group who would go to the official ceremony with the mayor of Hiroshima. There would be a reading of the namesof survivors who had died in the last year, a reading of the city’s commitment to peace pledge, a releasing of doves, and other peace-related activities.

The rest of the pilgrims marched to the Atomic memorial dome where there would be a “die in.”

There were security people lining the streets as we walked, giving us a wary eye. Other than security, no one seemed to pay attention to us. The security got active briefly when they formed a barrier between the mayor of Hiroshima’s car and people standing on the sidewalk. After that, they resumed their silent stance. All the while we could hear the ceremony on loudspeakers spread throughout the park. Someone was talking in a solemn tone. As it was in Japanese, I had no real idea of what he was talking about.

At 8:15 a bell began to ring over the loud speaker. Everyone put their heads down for a moment of silence. At the Atomic Dome Memorial, everyone in the vicinity lay down on the ground and were silent as they remembered the thousands of people who died instantly sixty years ago.

I’m told it was a moving experience for the pilgrims in attendance. Shortly after they stopped ringing the bell, Hogen appeared. He said that the ceremony was lovely, but somewhat boring for those who couldn’t speak Japanese. He suggested that we set up for the next part of the schedule.

Before the pilgrimage, Genmyo had made many large Jizo banners for display in Japan. Among the most impressive were six 6’ x 3’ canvas banners, each depicting a Jizo against a different colored background. He also made one which had all the colors of the rainbow streaming out from behind a Jizo who held the world in her hands. One of our Sangha members designs kites, and she helped us turn this design into a large banner. Somehow it grew in being transferred, so we ended up with an 8’ x 4’ banner made of kite nylon.

I had been in charge of this particular Jizo. As we began to hand out pamphlets, Hogen suggested that I set it on a pole and let it unroll. Suddenly, people noticed the three foreigners in monk’s outfits. Some looked at it and turned away. Some took a photo. Some bowed. Jizo was the easiest thing to see for several blocks. The “die in” pilgrims and ceremony pilgrims filtered back to our meeting spot and began to hand out pamphlets and gear up for the next event.

We were told that we would be involved in a parade with a few other groups and that we would march through the park, down one of the streets, and eventually come back to the park.

One of the strong supporters of the project had taken panels when Chozen was in Japan the previous August and had Sangha members sew them into kimonos. Some of the pilgrims put on Jizo kimonos.

We had designed a belt so that the end of the pole for the Jizo banner could be secured to a pilgrim. That pilgrim was me. I lifted the Jizo banner and pole into position, raising her another three feet into the air. We began marching towards our start point.

I quickly realized a fatal flaw in having a kite designer create a Jizo banner. Kites are supposed to fly, and to fly they must be able to catch wind. Our Jizo banner was actually an 8’ x 4’ kite!

As we walked along, the kite, and the pilgrim strapped to the kite, were gently blown about by the wind. I had to use great arm strength to keep it from twisting to the side and hitting fellow pilgrims. I also had several pilgrims on watch for power lines, which were well within reach of Jizo’s head.

Daitetsu served as my back up person. When the wind would get too crazy or trees would grow to low or power lines threatened to electrocute (or even shock) me, I would simply call out to DT and drop the top of the banner back into his hands. When the coast was clear, Jizo would return to the upright position. It was obvious to me why the Japanese do not make banners this tall.

We had walked roughly ten minutes from the park when Ejo stopped us and announced that we were at the start of the parade. He informed us that we would march through an arcade mall chanting the Jizo mantra and handing out pamphlets. We would continue back to the park to the place where our supplies were kept.

With that brief introduction, we were off. As we chanted, people once again took photos, bowed, or averted their eyes. I’ve never considered myself a fundamentalist, but at that moment I must admit that I really felt more like one. I cannot imagine what people must have thought to see thirty Westerners, some in monk’s clothes, wandering through in this odd formation. We paraded back, unloaded our wares, and were told to meet again at 2 p.m.

I went wandering around the park on my own, meeting people, and getting some lunch from a convenience store. We regrouped at 2:00 for our prayer march.

We dressed up in the kimonos again, and I strapped on my kite. We collected pamphlets, and headed off chanting the Jizo mantra. We marched across a bridge and north along the river until we reached the Atomic Bomb Memorial building. We gathered around the fountain and offered banners on one of the statues. We continued on to the Memorial Tower to the Mobilized Students.


In Hiroshima, 8,387 students were mobilized to work and help in the war effort. Many of these students helped with the removal of wooden houses in order to prevent fires from destroying large parts of the city. Of these students, 6,097 of them were killed by the atomic bomb.

The main part of the memorial is a large metal pillar with five cement-like boxes attached to the pillar in decreasing size from the top. In front of the structure were thousands of origami cranes, strung together with roughly one hundred cranes per string. People offered Jizo origami to the memorial as we chanted. While we were chanting, someone told us that a Hibakusha (atomic survivor) wanted to speak to us.

We all abandoned our posts and raced over to this woman in her seventies. She was dressed in dark blue long skirt, jacket, and hat. She was very soft spoken. Ejo was near the front and acting as translator, and Chozen was also in the front. Our camera people were on the scene taking photos and video.

Looking back, I’m surprised that it didn’t occur to me that thirty foreigners (some with cameras) surrounding you would be a bit intense. Some people gathered this and moved away. I admit that I didn’t understand.

The woman seemed unable to express herself. She could only say, “You are American? But America dropped the bomb. America dropped the bomb.” Chozen stared this woman in the face, herself in tears, as she answered in Japanese, “I am sorry. I am so sorry.” Eventually this woman reached into her pocketbook and offered us a donation. She apologized that she needed a little change in order to take the bus home. We bowed, and she headed off. Quietly, we walked back to our meeting place.

Many people had been shaken up by the experience and wanted to discuss it. Roughly half the group gathered in a circle to share their experiences of the day. I wanted to get away. I went to the Sadako memorial, which was right next to our spot.

About Sadako: Sadako was two years old and living in Hiroshima when the atomic bomb went off. She developed leukemia in 1955, as a result of the bomb. Her best friend told her about a Japanese legend that anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes is granted a wish. She set about making paper cranes and completed a thousand before she died in October of 1955.

People heard the story and were moved by her commitment to never give up hope. Millions of origami cranes have come to Hiroshima from around the world to support the prayer for peace. In Japan, the paper crane has become a symbol of peace. The Sadako memorial is dedicated both to her and to all the children killed by the atomic bomb.

I walked around the memorial briefly, and then headed back to the Dome Memorial. I was in a daze from all the emotions. I saw Ejo at the memorial, doing meditation on the brick ground.

There was man nearby dressed in white with a sign that read “One million faces for peace.” He was making drawings of people, for free, in the name of peace. The wooden blocks I mentioned previously were set up and stretched around almost the entire memorial.

Meanwhile, back at the discussion group, a middle-aged Japanese man came over and began ranting at the group. He was quite livid. One of the Japanese priests got up and went with him to a bench. They sat down there and the man continued yelling. The priest sat still and nodded as he deeply listened to the man speak. This went on for half an hour. Yelling and listening. Slowly, the man began to calm down. Eventually he said thank you and left.

I wandered more. I passed hibakusha sharing their stories with people, but by that point I felt too overwhelmed to listen to more.

I went to the cenotaph for the victims. It is a cement arch with ends that are flared on both sides. Underneath the arch is what looks like a large casket. There were sunflowers—symbolizing the end of nuclear weapons-- arranged along either side.
There was a long line of people waiting to approach the Cenotaph and pay their respects. I stood to the side and watched. People would offer money, incense, or flowers. They would hold their hands with palms together. I imagine they made a prayer, and they would bow and leave. Tears came and went silently, like the people.

A Japanese man in his twenties approached me and said something in Japanese. I apologized and said that I did not speak Japanese. He questioned me in broken English, “What do you think of the United States dropping the atomic bomb?”

“I think it was a tragedy,” I responded.

“What do you think of the president’s choice to use the atomic bomb? He asked.

I thought for a moment before saying, “I think it was a difficult decision. I’m glad that I wasn’t asked to make that decision.”

He said with very deliberate speech, “I can never forgive America for dropping the bomb.”

I felt that it was important to say something, so I pondered a moment, and finally said, “I think that we are all capable of being very good people or very evil. I think we are all capable of mistakes. I pray that we will always try to be good people.”

“I pray for that too,” he said, and he turned and walked away.

I began to wonder what I was doing here. I felt completely unprepared to try and defend my country’s actions. I joined the line for the Cenotaph.

Standing in front of the Cenotaph I could see the shallow manmade lake right behind it. In the center of my vision was an eternal flame on a small bridge over the lake. Through the flame, you see the Atomic Dome Memorial. It’s quite striking to take this all in: the image of the building burning, with bodies symbolically right in front of you. There is a saying, “Hiroshima gets angry. Nagasaki prays.” I definitely felt that there was anger in the midst of this prayer for peace. I offered a donation, placed my palms together, and prayed for peace in the world.

I worked my way back to our group, and found that Yasa had arrived. He asked me to do some juggling. I had brought my balls in case the opportunity arose. I felt, however, that the mood was too somber for such things. As I started to juggle, I gained the attention of several children and a few adults, who were more cautious about paying attention. I realized as I juggled that in times of stress––such as a day of mourning––a brief reminder of the bright side of life can be helpful.

As the afternoon turned to evening, there was a Buddhist memorial ceremony for all the Koreans who died during the bombing. Representatives from the Nichiren, Jodo Shin, and Rinzai sects all attended. Finally, it was time for the Soto Zen Buddhists.

Out came the Jizo kite again, and I fought with the wind as they chanted three or four chants from our tradition. There was a brief dedication and we finished. I rolled up the kite and Taiken-san told me to follow him.

Ikki-san, Taiken-san, Yuji-san, and I headed off for the car. I noticed immediately that things had started to get more crowded. I was at the end of our line, and as they quickly sped through the crowd, I dipped and dodged my way around people to ensure that I stayed right behind them.

We loaded everything up, they gave me some paper for lanterns, and we headed off. We headed up the river, towards the Atomic Dome memorial again. I saw the pilgrims coming over the Aoi bridge which had been the target of the bombing.

We turned and headed down a stair case which leads to the river. There were people on either side of the river, and standing along the pathways above. We began setting up paper lanterns. Earlier, people had written messages for peace on the papers I was carrying. We made them into lanterns and lit the candles. As the pilgrims came down to the water, they found the lantern(s) they made and sent them into the river. The current carried the lanterns directly under the Aoi bridge. It struck me that those lanterns were not only prayers for peace, but another representation of those who had died and were sailing away from us. We stood and watched them go for a while, as night set in.

Taiken-san told us that it was time to go, and we slowly gathered all the pilgrims together.We left the park then walked down to an Indian restaurant where we had dinner reservations. Yasa sat next to me, and we made paper airplanes and threw them at other tables. It’s amazing what you can get away with when a ten year old is by your side.

Yasa amazed me with his fluency in both Japanese and English. Whenever he was around, he was my official interpreter. We finished dinner and got onto another city bus which had been rented to take us to Zensho-ji. It was 8 p.m. and we had had a long day.

Unfortunately, the bus driver got lost on the way home. He didn’t notice this, but some of the Japanese people who could read the street signs realized what was going on, and they started to wonder what to do. Jihiken took charge and called Taiken-san, who was driving back with the leftover pamphlets, kimonos, signs, etc. Of course Jihiken didn’t know that much about the area, so she quickly handed the phone over to Yasa. Yasa quickly identified where we were and Taiken-san helped guide us back to Zensho-ji. We all had a good laugh at how helpful Yasa was.

Then quick showers and off to a well-earned sleep.

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