-
“Hiroshima! Everybody off!” That must be
what the man in the Japanese stationmaster's
uniform
shouted,
as
the
fastest
train
in
the
world
slipped
to
a
stop
in
Hiroshima
Station.
I
did
not
understand
what
he
was
saying.
First
of
all,
because
he
was
shouting
in
Japanese.
And secondly,
because I had a lump in my throat and a lot of sad
thoughts on my mind that
had
little
to
do
with
anything
a
Nippon
railways
official
might
say.
The
very
act
of
stepping
on this soil, in breathing this air of
Hiroshima, was for me a far greater adventure
than
any trip or any
reportorial
assignment
I'd previously
taken. Was I not at the scene of
t
h
e
c
r
i
m
e
?
The Japanese crowd did not appear to
have the same
preoccupations
that I had. From
the
sidewalk
outside
the
station,
things
seemed
much
the
same
as
in
other
Japanese
cities.
Little girls and elderly ladies in
kimonos
rubbed shoulders
with teenagers and women in
western
dress. Serious looking men spoke to one another as
if they were
oblivious
of
the
crowds about them, and bobbed up
and down re-heatedly in little bows, as they
exchanged
the
ritual formula
of gratitude and
respect:
little red telephones that hung on the
facades
of grocery stores
and tobacco shops.
Hi!
said
the
cab
driver,
whose
door
popped
open
at
the
very
sight
of
a
traveler.
Hall?
rear-view
mirror and repeated
top
speed
through
the
narrow
streets
of
Hiroshima.
The
tall
buildings
of
the
martyred
city
flashed by as we
lurched
from side to side in response to the
driver's sharp twists of
t
h
e
w
h
e
e
l
.
Just as I was beginning to find the
ride long, the taxi screeched to a halt, and the
driver got out and went over to a
policeman to ask the way. As in Tokyo, taxi
drivers in
Hiroshima often know little
of their city, but to avoid loss of face before
foreigners,
will not admit their
ignorance, and will accept any destination without
concern for how
l
o
n
g
i
t
m
a
y
t
a
k
e
t
h
e
m
t
o
f
i
n
d
i
t
.
At last this
intermezzo
came to an end,
and I found myself in front of the
gigantic
City Hall. The
usher
bowed deeply and
heaved
a long, almost
musical sigh, when I showed
him
the
invitation
which
the
mayor
had
sent
me
in
response
to
my
request
for
an
interview.
wi
th other
foreigners or, the restaurant boat. See? This is
where it is.” He
sketched
a
l
i
t
t
l
e
m
a
p
f
o
r
m
e
o
n
t
h
e
b
a
c
k
o
f
m
y
i
n
v
i
t
a
t
i
o
n
.
Thanks to his map, I was able to find a
taxi driver who could take me straight to the
canal
embankment
,
where
a
sort
of
barge
with
a
roof
like
one
on
a
Japanese
house
was
moored
.
The
Japanese
build
their
traditional
houses
on
boats
when
land
becomes
too
expensive.
The
rather arresting spectacle of little
old Japan adrift
adrift amid beige
concrete
skyscrapers is the
very symbol of the
incessant
struggle between the kimono and the
m
i
n
i
s
k
i
r
t
.
At
the
door
to
the
restaurant,
a
stunning
,
porcelain-faced
woman
in
traditional
costume
asked me to remove
my shoes. This done, I entered one of the low-
ceilinged rooms of the
little
floating
house,
treading
cautiously
on
the
soft
matting
and
experiencing
a
twinge
of
embarrassment at the prospect of
meeting the mayor of Hiroshima in my socks.
He
was
a
tall,
thin
man,
sad-
eyed
and
serious.
Quite
unexpectedly,
the
strange
emotion
which had
overwhelmed me at the station returned, and I was
again
crushed
by the thought
that
I
now
stood
on
the
site
of
the
first
atomic
bombardment
,
where
thousands
upon
thousands
of
people
had
been
slain
in
one
second,
where
thousands
upon
thousands
of
others
had
lingered
o
n
t
o
d
i
e
i
n
s
l
o
w
a
g
o
n
y
.
The introductions were
made. Most of the guests were Japanese, and it was
difficult
for me to ask them just why
we were gathered here. The few Americans and
Germans seemed
just as
inhibited
as I was.
H
i
r
o
s
h
i
m
a<
/p>
.
Everyone
bowed,
including
the
Westerners.
After
three
days
in
Japan,
the
spinal
column
b
e
< br>c
o
m
e
s
e
x
t
r
a
o
r
d
i
n
a
r
i
l
y
f
l
e
< br>x
i
b
l
e
.
There were fresh bows, and the faces
grew more and more serious each time the name
H
i
r
o
s
h
i
m
< br>a
w
a
s
r
e
p
e
a
t
e
d
.
agitated
.
renown
, and I am
proud and happy to welcome you
t
o
H
i
r
o
s
h
i
m
a
,
a
< br>t
o
w
n
k
n
o
w
n
t
h
r
o
u
g
h
o
u
t
t
h
e
w
o
r
l
d
f
o
r
i
t
s
-
-
-
o
y
s
t
e
< br>r
s
I
was
just
about
to
make
my
little
bow
of
assent
,
when
the
meaning
of
these
last
words
s
a
n
k
i
n
,
j
o
l
t
i
n
g
m
e
o
u
t
o
f
m
y
s
a
d
r
e
v
e
r
i
e
.
–
oysters?
What
about
the
bomb
and
the
misery
and
humanity's
most
heinous
crime?
I cautiously backed
away and headed toward the far side of the room,
where a few men were
talking among
themselves and paying little attention to the
mayor's speech.
p
u
z
z
l
e
d
,
s
a
i
d
a
s
m
a
l
l
J
a
p
a
n
e
s
e
< br>
m
a
n
w
i
t
h
v
e
r
y
l
a
< br>r
g
e
e
y
e
-
g
l
a
s
s
e
s.
t
h
a
t
H
i
r
o
s
h
i
m
a
s
t
i
l
l<
/p>
f
e
l
t
t
h
e
i
m
p
a
c
t
o
f
t
h
e
a
t
o
m
i
c
i
m
p
a
c
< br>t
.
it any more,
and no
one
wants
to, especially, the people
who
were
b
o
r
n
h
e
r
e
o
r
w
h
o
l
i
v
e
d
t
h
r
o
u
g
< br>h
i
t.
D
o
y
o
u
f
e
e
l
t
h
e
s
a
m
e
w
a
y
,
t
o
< br>o
?
an old man. There are two
different schools of thought in this city of
oysters, one that
would like to
preserve traces of the bomb, and the other that
would like to get rid of
everything,
even the monument that was erected at the point of
impact. They would also
l
i
k
e
t
o
d
e
m
o
l
i
s
h
t
h
e
a
t
o
m
i
c
m
u
s
e
u
< br>m
.
W
h
y
w
o
u
l
d
t
h
e
y
w
a
n
t
t
o
d
o
t
h
a
t
?
Japanese
man
smiled,
his
eyes
nearly
closed
behind
their
thick
lenses.
you
write
about
this city, do not
forget to say that it is the gayest city in Japan,
even it many of the
t
o
w
n
'
s
< br>
p
e
o
p
l
e
s
t
i
l
l
b
e
a
r
h
i
d
d
e
n
< br>
w
o
u
n
d
s
,
a
n
d
b
u
r
n
s
.
Like any other, the
hospital smelled of
formaldehyde
and
ethere
.
Stretchers
and
wheelchairs
lined
the
walls
of
endless
corridors,
and
nurses
walked
by
carrying
Stretchers
instruments, the
very sight of which would send shivers down the
spine of any healthy
visitor. The so-
called atomic section was located on the third
floor. It consisted of 17
b
e
d
s
.
am
a
fisherman
by
trade.
I
have
been
here
a
very
long
time,
more
than
twenty
years,
s
a
i
d
a
n
o
l
d
m
a
n
i
n
J
a
p
a
n
e
s
e
p
a
j
a
< br>m
a
s.
“
W
h
a
t
i
s
<
/p>
w
r
o
n
g
w
i
t
h
y
o
u
?
”
had no burns on my face or
body. I ran all over the city looking for missing
friends and
relatives. I thought
somehow I had been spared. But later my hair began
to fall out, and
my belly turned to
water. I felt sick, and ever since then they have
been testing and
treating me.
other s died as a result of
their injuries, or else
committed
suicide
.
W
h
y
< br>
d
i
d
t
h
e
y
c
o
m
m
i
t
< br>s
u
i
c
i
d
e
?
<
/p>
humiliating
to
survive in this city. If you bear any visible
scars
of atomic
burns, your children will encounter
prejudice on the par t of those who do not. No one
will
marry
the
daughter
or
the
niece
of
an
atomic
bomb
victim.
People
are
afraid
of
genetic
damage from the
radiation.
Hanging
over
the
patient
was
a
big
ball
made
of
bits
of
brightly
colored
paper,
folded
i
n
t
o
t
h
e
s
h
a
p
e
o
f
t
i
n
y
b
i
r
d
s
.
W
h
a
t
'
s
t
h<
/p>
a
t
?
I
a
s
k
e
d
< br>.
helps to free me from
earthly
cares, I make a new
little paper bird, and add it to the
others.
This
way
I
look
at
them
and
congratulate
myself
of
the
good
fortune
that
my
illness
has brought me.
Because, thanks to it, I have the opportunity to
improve my character.
Once again, outside in the open air, I
tore into little pieces a small notebook with
questions that I'd prepared in advance
for inter views with the patients of the atomic
ward. Among them was the question: Do
you really think that Hiroshima is the liveliest
city in Japan? I never asked it. But I
could read the answer in every eye.
“广岛到了
!
大家请下车!”当世界上最快的
高速列车减速驶进广岛车站并渐渐停稳时，
那位身着日
本火车站
站长制服的男人口中喊出的一定是这样的话。
我其实并没有听懂他在说些什么，
一是因为
他是用日语喊的，其次，则是因为我当时心情沉重，喉咙哽噎，
忧思万缕，几乎顾不上去管那日本
铁路官员说些什么。
踏上这块
土地，
呼吸着广岛的空气，
对我来说这行动本身已是一套令人激
动的
经历，其意义远远超过我以往所进行的任何一次旅行或采访活动。难道我不就是在犯
罪现场吗
?
这儿的日本人看来倒没有我这样的忧伤情绪。
从车站外的人行道上看去，
这儿的一切似乎都与
日本其
他城市没什么两样。身着和嘏的小姑娘和上了年纪的太太与西装打扮的少年和妇女摩肩接
豫；神情严肃的男人们对周围的人群似乎视而不见，只顾着相互交淡，并不停地点头弯腰，互致问
候：
“多么阿里伽多戈扎伊马嘶。
”还有人在使用杂货
铺和烟草店门前挂着的小巧的红色电话通话。
“嗨
!<
/p>
嗨!”出租汽车司机一看见旅客，就砰地打开车门，这样打着招呼。“嗨”，或者某个发<
/p>
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