the monster in us all

Hey all. I just returned from an amazing three day trip down through Southern Japan. It was pretty incredible. I went to Hiroshima via bus along with maybe 11 other exchange students from around the world. Last time we met, we often tried to speak Japanese together just to practice and show off a little. This time, we had so much to say to each other, we just spoke in whatever language we could to get the point across. Sometimes, us native English speakers would get in such a frenzy and start talking too fast. The others would ask us to repeat ourselves, and suddenly, Japanese would be flying out. It was a mad bonanza of languages. I actually found myself saying "Bonjour amigo! Kino, I saw a neco at my house! Sugoi, ne?" Languages are incredible. I'm in love with words and sounds and the way everything fits so perfectly together, especially in Japanese. I don't know if Japanese is really any more difficult than the Romance languages when it comes down to it. The grammar is fairly simple and the rules don't have very many exceptions. Japanese is absolutely more daunting than most languages I know of, but probably not really very much more difficult.

Anyways, the most interesting part of my incredibly fantastic trip was the walk the Hiroshima's memorial. It was staggering. Exactly what I expected it to be, and yet, I was overwhelmed and surprised all the same. It hurt to go through the museum and if I'd have been with my mom (the biological, American one) I would have cried. I wanted her to be there to hold my hand. I wanted someone to tell me it was all a horrible prank. I wanted to stop hurting for all the melting children in the pictures. I didn't expect Hiroshima to have such an effect on me. I mean, I knew the details. I've thought about it extensively enough. Nobody has hidden any truth from me. And yet, there they were, beneath my feet, in the air, on the black on photos, calling out for relief from there torture. I hate how vivid my mind is. I hate that I could hear the sobs and feel the shock.

I am afraid America made a grave grave mistake. I'm afraid it was worse than a mistake. I've been tought that the choices, while difficult, were limited. Invade Japan and prolong the war, or swiftly take out a couple of cities with the a-bomb and bring immediate peace. I'm afraid. I'm shocked. I'm ashamed.

I was proud of our insistance of "unconditional surrendor" when I learned about it in history. I was pleased to know our great nation stood firmly on it's values. All Japan wanted was to keep it's emporer. Why did we insist on unconditional surrendor? Why didn't we warn them directly and outright that we had the a-bomb? Why wasn't every single damn alternative considered? Why did we bomb Nagasaki so soon after Hiroshima? Why didn't we listen to the Japanese try to negotiate peace? In the end, the only condition they really wanted, the retention of the emporer, was accepted anyways. Couldn't we have skipped the Hiroshima step?

I guess in the end, it doesn't matter if the deaths served a purpose or not. The mothers certainly weren't proudly holding there burning babies, pleased they were helping to bring about peace. No amount of crying can change what happened. No amount of questioning and wondering can make it okay.

And yet, my faith in my country has been badly shaken. Not only did we (they?) do such an aweful thing, but it was not last resort. In America, we debated about it in history class. Was Hiroshima necessary? In Japan, the idea that the issue is even devatable would be astonishing. I'm so afraid of what we did.

And now what do I do with this heavy feeling? How do I come to terms with it? How can I use it to make things better? Can I make things better?