Memories of Hiroshima
Professor Tan Sri Dato' Dzulkifli Abd Razak
Learning Curve : Perspective
New Sunday Times - 03/27/2011
WHEN I was young, my father used to narrate the bombing of Hiroshima, Japan in 1945 and the devastation it caused both to human lives and the physical environment.
Hashizume Bun, 80-year-old author of The Day the
Sun Fell — I Was 14 Years Old in Hiroshima, poses in front
of the Hiroshima Peace Memorial
This is one event that he will not be able to forget because of its tremendous impact on his teenaged life. Somehow he wants the experience to rub off on his family as much as possible, given the numerous lessons therein even until today.
Many are familiar with this tragic event, and a lot have been written about it. But few have experienced it to know what it was like in reality.
At most, we can vaguely visualise what had happened but nothing comes close to what my father saw that fateful day barely 1.5km from the epicentre of the explosion.
He was trapped unconscious overnight under the roof of the college building where he was attending a Mathematics class.
The lecture was just beginning when there was a thunderous flash followed by a siren indicating that a bomber plane had flown away from the vicinity.
Usually the siren meant that life can go back to "normal" -- not this time! The bomb was timed to detonate after the plane had left the area so that it would be spared.
Emerging from their shelters proved to be a terrible mistake for the people of the city.
When my father came to, he found that all the familiar landmarks had been razed to the ground; in their place were people in agony amid the rubble and the horrendous destruction.
No one could have imagined the aftermath of the world's first atomic-nuclear explosion. Even the attackers were in a state of disbelief.
When the tsunami struck north-eastern Japan on March 11, memories of the Hiroshima tragedy came flooding back.
I was curious as to how much of it resembled Hiroshima after the A-bomb some 70 years ago.
My father, with tears welling up in his eyes, whispered that Hiroshima was worse off.
Perhaps there can be no comparison, considering that the bomb claimed more than 200,000 lives in almost a split second.
After all, the mission was meticulously planned to deliver the biggest impact, what with the population caught by surprise -- one similarity with the March 11 calamity!
My father, being the only Malaysian to survive the bomb attack in Hiroshima, cannot but try to draw some parallels.
Clearly the old scars and sense of remorse over the pain inflicted on civilian victims can never be erased from his memory.
He recalled dead bodies everywhere, while the living seemed confused about what the bombing meant to their being. Those injured cried out desperately for assistance but mainly in vain.
Many were beyond recognition -- heavily battered, bruised and burnt.
Some were buried deep under the wreckage as though waiting for angels of mercy.
The atmosphere was smoke-filled from the sporadic fires.
The situation was haphazard due to destroyed physical structures and mountains of debris.
The air and water were polluted by radioactivity though it did not cause immediate concern as it was invisible.
Many had no choice but to breathe in the toxic air, and drink the poisoned water out of desperation.
All these suddenly become even more real to me as I watched the horror of the tsunami being projected on the television screen again and again.
While the Japanese people's confusion and despair were apparent, so too were their dignity and resolve as they took the disaster in their stride.
In fact, it was the same in Hiroshima after the bomb attack. An elderly Japanese, who confided in my father, said: "Razak-san, Japan will rise again!"
And they did soon after World War II was over.
Likewise, my father has no doubt that Japan will be back on its feet with the same resoluteness after March 11.
Our hope is that it will happen expeditiously and with as little pain as possible.
* The writer is the Vice-Chancellor of Universiti Sains Malaysia. He can be contacted at vc@usm.my
Learning Curve : Perspective
New Sunday Times - 03/27/2011
WHEN I was young, my father used to narrate the bombing of Hiroshima, Japan in 1945 and the devastation it caused both to human lives and the physical environment.
Hashizume Bun, 80-year-old author of The Day the
Sun Fell — I Was 14 Years Old in Hiroshima, poses in front
of the Hiroshima Peace Memorial
This is one event that he will not be able to forget because of its tremendous impact on his teenaged life. Somehow he wants the experience to rub off on his family as much as possible, given the numerous lessons therein even until today.
Many are familiar with this tragic event, and a lot have been written about it. But few have experienced it to know what it was like in reality.
At most, we can vaguely visualise what had happened but nothing comes close to what my father saw that fateful day barely 1.5km from the epicentre of the explosion.
He was trapped unconscious overnight under the roof of the college building where he was attending a Mathematics class.
The lecture was just beginning when there was a thunderous flash followed by a siren indicating that a bomber plane had flown away from the vicinity.
Usually the siren meant that life can go back to "normal" -- not this time! The bomb was timed to detonate after the plane had left the area so that it would be spared.
Emerging from their shelters proved to be a terrible mistake for the people of the city.
When my father came to, he found that all the familiar landmarks had been razed to the ground; in their place were people in agony amid the rubble and the horrendous destruction.
No one could have imagined the aftermath of the world's first atomic-nuclear explosion. Even the attackers were in a state of disbelief.
When the tsunami struck north-eastern Japan on March 11, memories of the Hiroshima tragedy came flooding back.
I was curious as to how much of it resembled Hiroshima after the A-bomb some 70 years ago.
My father, with tears welling up in his eyes, whispered that Hiroshima was worse off.
Perhaps there can be no comparison, considering that the bomb claimed more than 200,000 lives in almost a split second.
After all, the mission was meticulously planned to deliver the biggest impact, what with the population caught by surprise -- one similarity with the March 11 calamity!
My father, being the only Malaysian to survive the bomb attack in Hiroshima, cannot but try to draw some parallels.
Clearly the old scars and sense of remorse over the pain inflicted on civilian victims can never be erased from his memory.
He recalled dead bodies everywhere, while the living seemed confused about what the bombing meant to their being. Those injured cried out desperately for assistance but mainly in vain.
Many were beyond recognition -- heavily battered, bruised and burnt.
Some were buried deep under the wreckage as though waiting for angels of mercy.
The atmosphere was smoke-filled from the sporadic fires.
The situation was haphazard due to destroyed physical structures and mountains of debris.
The air and water were polluted by radioactivity though it did not cause immediate concern as it was invisible.
Many had no choice but to breathe in the toxic air, and drink the poisoned water out of desperation.
All these suddenly become even more real to me as I watched the horror of the tsunami being projected on the television screen again and again.
While the Japanese people's confusion and despair were apparent, so too were their dignity and resolve as they took the disaster in their stride.
In fact, it was the same in Hiroshima after the bomb attack. An elderly Japanese, who confided in my father, said: "Razak-san, Japan will rise again!"
And they did soon after World War II was over.
Likewise, my father has no doubt that Japan will be back on its feet with the same resoluteness after March 11.
Our hope is that it will happen expeditiously and with as little pain as possible.
* The writer is the Vice-Chancellor of Universiti Sains Malaysia. He can be contacted at vc@usm.my