  |
はてなキーワード: Never Forgetとは
In a discussion about the case, someone raised an objection to "someone who was not a party to the incident, who was not from Nagasaki, and who was not from Hiroshima, complaining about it. Seeing that opinion made me aware of my position, so I will say what I must say.
I was born in Nagasaki and am a third-generation A-bomb survivor.
I say this because I grew up hearing the stories of the A-bomb damage directly from those who suffered from the atomic bombings.
I feel that it is unacceptable for someone like me to speak about the A-bomb damage.
However, there are few A-bomb survivors left, so I will speak up.
In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. We were made to sit in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, where there was not even an air conditioner or a fan, and for nearly an hour we were made to listen to stories about the atomic bombing. It was hard for me anyway.
I think it was even more painful for the elderly people who told the stories. But I don't think an elementary school kid could have imagined that. I, too, have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most.
Another thing is that at this time of year, pictures of the victims of the atomic bombing are pasted up in the hallways.
In other parts of the country, these are grotesque images that would cause a fuss from the parents who are always nagging about them.
Recently, even the A-bomb museum has become more gentle in its exhibits, and most of the radical and horrifying exhibits that would have traumatized visitors have been removed.
I don't know how elementary schools now teach about the A-bomb damage. But when I was in elementary school, there were photos on display.
There was one photo that I just couldn't face as an elementary school student. It was a picture of Taniguchi Sumiteru(谷口稜曄). If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would still like you to see it.
I couldn't pass through the hallway where the photo was displayed, so I always took the long way around to another floor to avoid seeing the photo.
My grandfather was under the bomb and went to the burnt ruins of the bomb to look for his sister. I can understand now that he couldn't turn away or go another way.
There would have been a mountain of people still alive and moaning in the ruins of the burnt ruins. There would have been many more who would have died out in agony.
My grandfather walked for miles and miles, towing a rear wheelchair, through the narrow streets of rubble-strewn Nagasaki in search of his sister.
My grandfather was not a child then. But of course there were elementary school children who did the same thing he did. I am not speculating that there were. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it.
A young brother and sister found their father's corpse in the ruins of the fire and burned it themselves. They didn't have enough wood to burn him alive, and when they saw his brain spilling out, they ran away, and that was the last time they ever saw him again.
I can never forget that story I heard when I was a kid, and even now it's painful and painful, my hands are shaking and I'm crying.
I keep wondering how that old man who ran away from his father's brain was able to expose to the public the unimaginably horrible trauma, the scar that will never heal, even after all these years.
Now I think I understand a little.
Why I can't help but talk about my grandfather and the old man now, even as I remember my own trauma.
Because this level of suffering is nothing compared to their words being forgotten.
It's nothing compared to the tremendous suffering that once existed that will be forgotten, like my hands shaking, my heart palpitating, my nose running with vertigo, and so on.
My grandfather, who went through an unimaginable hell, lived to see his grandchildren born, and met his sister's death in the ruins of the fire.
In other words, my grandfather was one of the happiest people in the ruins of the fire.
My grandfather and that old man were, after all, just people wading in the depths of hell.
I think that the suffering that even people who had experienced unimaginable pain could not imagine was lying like pebbles on the ground in Nagasaki 78 years ago, and no one paid any attention to it.
Their suffering, which I can't even imagine, is nothing compared to the countless, unimaginable suffering they witnessed, which they pretend never happened.
Memories fade inexorably with each passing human mouth. The memories that those people could never allow to be forgotten are almost forgotten.
The tremendous suffering of 78 years ago is mostly gone, never to be recounted.
Those who suffered the most from the atomic bombing died rotting in the ruins of the fire without being able to tell anyone about it.
Many of those who saw it with their own eyes kept their mouths shut and took it with them to their graves. Most of those who spoke a few words are still in their graves.
Compared to the words of the old men, my own words are so light. I would rather keep my mouth shut than speak in such light words.
But still, someone has to take over. I realize that even my words, which are so light, are only the top of the voices that are left in this world to carry on the story of the atomic bombing.
I know how it feels to think that I am the only one. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. I know that I have closed my mouth because I thought I shouldn't talk about it, and that is the result.
Sometimes I almost choose to stop imagining the unimaginable suffering and live my life consuming other people's suffering for fun.
I am writing this while I still have some imagination of the suffering of the old people whose voices, faces, and even words I can no longer recall.
すまん。勝手に翻訳した。拡散はどうするかな。redditとかに投稿するのがいいのか?
----
I have seen some posts asking if they should talk about "the case" even though they were not involved in it and were not born in Nagasaki or Hiroshima, and I am a bit aware of it, so I have to say what I have to say. I say this because I was born in Nagasaki, am a third generation atomic bomb survivor, and grew up hearing the stories of those who experienced the atomic bombing firsthand. I know it's a little bit too much for me, but I'm going to say this because there are very few survivors left.
In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. They were stuffed into sushi for nearly an hour in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, with no air conditioner or fan, and told stories about the atomic bombing. That was a hard time for me. I think it must have been even harder for the old people who told the stories, but there was no way an elementary school kid could imagine such a thing, and I had forgotten most of the stories I had been told for a long time. I have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most. There is one more hard thing. Every year around this time, a row of grotesque images that would drive the PTA crazy in other areas are prominently displayed in the hallways. These days, I hear that the atomic bomb museum has been bleached out and many of the radical and horrifying exhibits that traumatized visitors have been taken down. I don't know if they are still there, but they were there when I was in elementary school.
There was one photo that I just couldn't face when I was in elementary school. It is a picture of Sumiteru Taniguchi. If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would like you to take a look at it. I couldn't pass through the hallway where the photo was posted, so I always took the long way around to another floor of the school building to avoid seeing the photo.
Now I'm thinking that my grandfather, who headed into the burnt ruins to look for his sister, couldn't have turned away or taken a different path. There would have been a mountain of people still alive and moaning, not just pictures, and a mountain more who would have given up at the end of their suffering. He walked for miles and miles, towing his handcart through the narrow streets of rubble-strewn Nagasaki in search of his sister. My grandfather was not a child at the time, but of course there were children who did similar things. Not that there wouldn't have been. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it. A young brother and sister found their father's body in the ruins of a fire and they burned it. They didn't have enough wood to burn his body, and when they saw the raw brain that spilled out, they ran away and that was the last time they ever saw him anymore.
I can never forget the story I heard when I was a kid, and even now it is painful and painful, my hands are shaking and I am crying. I keep wondering how the old man who escaped from that father's brain could have been able to unravel the most horrible trauma imaginable and expose it to the public with scars that will never heal.
Now I think I can understand a little.
The reason I can't help but talk about my grandfather and that old man, even if I have to rehash my own trauma, is that this level of suffering is nothing compared to the fact that their words will be forgotten. My hands shaking, my heart palpitating and dizzy, my nose running with tears, it's nothing compared to the tremendous suffering that was once there and will be forgotten.
My grandfather, who went through an unimaginable hell, lived to see his grandchildren born, and met his sister's death in the ruins of the fire. In other words, my grandfather was one of the happiest people in the ruins of the fire. My grandfather and that old man were, after all, just people wading in the depths of hell. I think that the suffering that even people who had experienced unimaginable pain could not imagine was lying like pebbles in Nagasaki 78 years ago, and no one paid any attention to it. Their suffering, which I can't even imagine, is nothing compared to the countless, tremendous suffering they witnessed, which they pretend never happened.
Memories fade inexorably every time people talk about them. The memories that those people could not allow to be forgotten are now largely forgotten; the tremendous suffering of 78 years ago is mostly gone, never to be recounted again. Those who suffered the most from the atomic bombing died rotting in the ruins of the fire, unable to tell anyone about it. Many of those who saw it with their own eyes kept their mouths shut and took it with them to their graves. Most of those who spoke a few words are now under the grave.
Compared to the words of the old men, my own words are so light. I would rather keep my mouth shut than speak in such light words. But still, someone has to take over. I realize that even my words, which are so light, are only the top of the voices that are left in this world to carry on the story of the atomic bombing. I know how it feels to wonder if someone like myself is allowed to speak about this. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. This is the result of our silence.
Sometimes I almost choose to stop imagining the unimaginable suffering and live my life consuming other people's suffering for the fun of it. I am writing this while I still have some imagination of the suffering of the old people whose voices, faces, and even words I can no longer recall.
Translator's note: The original post in Japanese is a response to a post by a Japanese contributor who wondered if he was qualified to speak out on the subject of the A-bomb when he was not from Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but still spoke out about Barbie and the A-bomb. I translated it here because I think it deserves to be read by the world.
I must talk about various things regarding the Barbie incident.
I saw a post about it from someone who is neither directly involved nor from Nagasaki or Hiroshima, and it made me realize that there are things I must say.
I was born in Nagasaki and grew up listening to stories from the survivors, being a third-generation survivor myself. Most survivors are no longer with us, so I feel compelled to speak up.
In Nagasaki, kids grow up hearing about the atomic bomb. We were packed like sushi in a gymnasium without air conditioning or even fans during the scorching summer, and we listened to stories about the bomb. It was incredibly tough for me.
I imagine it was even harder for the elderly who spoke about their experiences. As a child, I couldn't fully comprehend their pain, and now, I can hardly remember most of the stories I heard. I can only recall one or two.
Every year during this time, gruesome images that would make PTA elsewhere go crazy were displayed in the hallways. I heard that many of the horrifying exhibits that used to traumatize visitors at the Atomic Bomb Museum have been removed, and the museum has been considerably sanitized. I'm not sure about the current situation, but that's how it was when I was there.
There was one photograph that I could never bear to look at as a child – a picture of Tadashi Taniguchi. You can find it if you search, but it's a shocking image with a viewer discretion warning. Still, I want people to see it.
I couldn't walk down the hallway where that photo was displayed, and I always took a different route, avoiding it so I wouldn't have to see it.
Now, I think of my grandpa who went to the ruins to search for my sister. He couldn't look away or take a different path. The pain must have been unimaginable.
Besides photographs, there were many living people moaning in pain back then, and there must have been even more who succumbed to suffering.
My grandpa walked for miles, pulling a handcart through the debris-laden streets of Nagasaki, searching for my sister.
Even though my grandpa was not a child, I'm sure there were elementary school kids who did similar things. I don't just think they might have been there; they were there. I heard the stories from the people themselves, and I still remember them.
I can't forget the stories I heard as a child, such as the young siblings finding their father's burnt corpse in the ruins and cremating him. They didn't have enough firewood, and their father ended up half-burnt. They ran away after seeing the brain tissue oozing out, and that became their final farewell.
I can never forget those stories I heard as a child, and even now, they still bring pain and suffering, making my hands tremble and tears flow.
I wonder how my grandpa, who ran away from that father's brain tissue, could expose his unimaginable trauma and everlasting scars to the world.
Now, I feel like I understand a little.
Even someone like me, who experienced such unimaginable trauma, has gone through pain that I can't even imagine being compared to being discarded, forgotten, and ignored. Compared to what those people experienced, my suffering means nothing.
My trembling hands and the palpitations and dizziness I experienced are nothing compared to the tremendous pain that many others went through.
Memories fade irreversibly every time they pass through people's lips. The memories that I couldn't bear to be forgotten are almost forgotten now.
The unimaginable pain that existed 78 years ago has mostly disappeared, and we can no longer pass it on.
The people who suffered the most from the atomic bomb perished in the ruins, rotting away without being able to convey it to anyone.
Even those who saw it with their own eyes mostly took the memories with them to their graves. Most of them are now under the tombstones.
Compared to the words of the elderly, my words seem so light. I think that speaking with such light words would be better than keeping silent, as silence has led to this result.
I feel like I might occasionally choose to stop imagining the unimaginable pain and consume the suffering of others in an amusing way to live on.
Before I forget the pain and suffering of those elderly people, whose faces and voices I can no longer recall, I will leave this here.
もうオリンピックが開催される前提でニュースが流れて、みんな納得した雰囲気をメディアがかもしだしているのは、どう考えてもおかしくないですか？ これを読んでいるあなた個人は納得してますか？ 私はしてません。
誰が見てもおかしいことが、強引に押し切られて、既成事実を作りだした人々が生き残るのを見ることに、いつのまにかみんなが慣れました。
どれほど無残なことをしても、喉元過ぎれば熱さを忘れるで、少し時間がたてばみんなが忘れるだろうと、舐められることにみんなが慣れました。
そんなふうに簡単に操られる愚か者たちだと、見下されることに私たちみんなが慣れました。
その結果、この夏はたくさんの人が死のうとしています。
これを読んでいるあなた、あるいはあなたの家族、友人も、そのうちの一人かもしれません。
どれほどたくさんの人が死んでも、オリンピックを無理やり開催した人々は、だれも責任を取りません。
すべてはもう決まったことなのでしょうか。
なぜだれも止めないのでしょうか。
なぜ「だれも止められない」と思うのでしょうか。
ブックマークコメントを見ていると、オリンピックに批判的な発言が多いですね。
そういうメッセージを発しているみなさんの声が全世界に届くように、何かできないかと思って、英語でtweet用のテンプレート集を作ってみました。
改善した方がよいところ、新しく作って欲しいテンプレートがあればコメント・トラバで連絡してください。
#IOC , we the people of Japan reject you. #Olympic will cause the surge in COVID cases in #Japan . We do not accept your unilateral attitude and greed ignoring the health risks to forcibly hold games. Our hatred aginst you will never disappear.
和訳：
#IOC 、 私たち日本国民はあなた方を拒絶します。#オリンピック は日本でコロナの症例数を増加させます。強制的にオリンピックを開催するために健康上のリスクを無視するあなた方の一方的な態度と強欲は受け入れません。あなた方に対する私たちの憎しみは決して消えることがないでしょう。
#IOC , we the people of Japan do not accept #Olympic to be held this summer. We have been constantly expressing our concerns over the significant health risks in holding the games, but you never listen to us. We will never forget what you will have done to us.
和訳：
＃IOC、私たち日本国民は、今夏の＃オリンピック 開催を受け入れることはありません。私たちはオリンピック開催にまつわる大きな健康上のリスクについてずっと懸念を表明して来ましたが、あなた方は決して耳を貸すことはありませんでした。あなた方が私たちにしたことを私たちは決して忘れないでしょう。
#Olympic athletes, please do not come to Japan. We know you have high exepectations from your game. But for us, it is a question of life and death. Holding the games this summer in #Japan will cause the surge in COVID cases and lead to a disaster. Please do not come.
和訳：
#オリンピック 代表選手のみなさん、どうか日本へ来ないでください。参加される試合に大きな期待を抱かれていることは認識しています。ですが私たちにとってこれは死活問題なのです。今夏 #日本 でオリンピックを開催した場合、コロナの症例数増加を引き起こし、大災害となるからです。どうか来ないでください。
Dear #Olympic athletes, we wanted to welcome you in #Japan but unfortunately, it is no longer possible to do so. Vaccination rate in #Japan is incredibly low and accepting people from overseas will cause deathes. Please do not enter the hall of shame by coming to the games.
和訳：
#オリンピック 代表選手のみなさん、#日本 でみなさんをお迎えしたかったのですが、それはもうできなくなってしまいました。#日本 のワクチン接種率は信じ難いほど低く、海外からみなさんをお迎えすると死者が出ます。試合に参加することで恥の殿堂へ入ることのないよう、どうかお願いします。
会議は無情に延長
俺はそれを陰で爆笑
なぜなら原因は昨晩の接待
不慣れな席でがっついて失態
出てきた料理眼の前にそう吐く
さすがにみんなドン引き
宴は幕引き
さっさとタクシーで送迎
やっぱり車中でもSOゲー
Please don't forget!
俺が部屋まで送った恩
Please never forget!
Please don't forget!
Please never forget!
俺の手のひらにほのかに香るゲロ臭
でも知ってるんだぜ
それから朝まで寝てたって言ったろ？
でも知ってるんだぜ
それは嘘だってこったろ？
実は行ったろピンサロ
教えてもらったＮＯ１ピンサロ
俺とすれ違ったろ三叉路
その先は唯一ピンサロ
Hey brother
俺だけが知ってるぜ
おれらすでにbrother
なんとなく「犬の十戒」を思い出した。
http://www.bunshun.co.jp/yakusoku/yakusoku.htm
1.私と気長につきあってください。
（Give me time to understand what you want of me.）
2.私を信じてください。それだけで私は幸せです。
（Place your trust in me. It's crucial to my well-being.）
3.私にも心があることを忘れないでください。
（Be aware that however you treat me I'll never forget it.）
4.言うことをきかないときは理由があります。
（Before you scold me for being lazy, ask yourself if something might be bothering me.）
5.私にたくさん話しかけてください。人のことばは話せないけど、わかっています。
（Talk to me sometimes. Even if I don't understand your words, I do understand your voice when it's speaking to me.）
6.私をたたかないで。本気になったら私のほうが強いことを忘れないで。
（Remember before you hit me, I have teeth that could hurt you, but that I choose not to bite you.）
7.私が年を取っても、仲良くしてください。
（Take care of me when I get old.）
8.私は十年くらいしか生きられません。だからできるだけ私と一緒にいてください。
（My life is likely to last 10 to 15 years. Any separation from you will be painful for me.）
9.あなたには学校もあるし友だちもいます。でも私にはあなたしかいません。
（You have your work, your entertainment, and your friends. I have only you.）
10.私が死ぬとき、お願いです、そばにいてください。どうか覚えていてください、私がずっとあなたを愛していたことを。
（Go with me on difficult journeys. Everything is easier for me if you are there. Remember I love you . . .）
