In Hiroshima, search for remains keeps war alive for lone volunteer

The doctor who survived Nagasaki – and the horrors he saw

Telegraph

7 hours ago

Telegraph

The doctor who survived Nagasaki – and the horrors he saw

On August 9 1945, Takashi Nagai, a doctor, inspected the air-raid equipment at Nagasaki Medical College. The buckets were full of water; the hoses were uncoiled; students scurried around with first-aid kits. If American planes bombed the site and its hospital, Nagai thought, it would be well prepared. Yet, he later recalled, as he passed a cluster of blood-red oleanders, a shiver of fear ran through him. Later that morning, the United States Army Air Forces dropped an atomic bomb on Nagasaki. Factories and homes were flattened, mighty pine trees were uprooted. Mount Inasa was stripped of every blade of its glittering, emerald grass. Nagai's neighbourhood of Urakami was obliterated. The scorched bodies of the dead lay as far as the eye could see. The doctor was buried alive, his face in a pool of shattered glass – though he eventually forced his way out. The bomb killed an estimated 75,000 people. Tens of thousands perished instantly, others died from festering wounds or radiation sickness weeks or months afterwards. Nagai's two small children, who had been sent to the countryside, survived, but his wife Midori was reduced to 'a bucketful of soft ashes' and a clod of melted rosary beads. Four years later, Nagai published a haunting eyewitness account of the bombing and its aftermath, The Bells of Nagasaki. It's being republished this week, in English translation, by Vintage Classics. Eighty years after the atrocity, as the clouds of conflict gather once again, his book is a crushing reminder of the obscenity of nuclear war. In the wake of the bomb, Nagai recounts, the survivors looked upon a desert of naked corpses. A professor cradled the charred bodies of his dying students. Their flesh was peeling off 'like the skin of a peach'; blood flowed from their ears and noses. One student, who was 'swollen like a pumpkin', took his last breath: 'There's no hope for me. Thanks for everything.' All the while, distant cries of agony echoed in the wind. A child's voice screamed, 'I'm burning! Throw water on me!… Mummy! Mummy!' Then, silence. One nurse could only compare Nagasaki to hell. Nagai, and a small group of surviving doctors, nurses and medical students, tried to treat the mass of wounded with only the most basic medical equipment. Nagai worked with one hand pressed against his own lacerated forehead to stop blood spurting out of a severed artery. His patients' injuries were graver still. Two plump nurses, nicknamed Little Barrel and Little Bean, felt 'ecstatic joy' as they crawled through burning rooms to rescue survivors. As flames enveloped the hospital, the medics made for safety up the hill with the wounded on their backs. Using the blood dripping from his chin as paint, Nagai 'traced a huge circular sun' on a white sheet to create a Japanese flag; with this held high, they abandoned their college. Later, Nagai's lionhearted troupe – stumbling, limping, deathly pale, in bloodstained skirts and ragged trousers – would trudge from village to village to heal the sick and chronicle their torments for the future benefit of science. For a while, they had no word from the outside world. But when American planes scattered leaflets announcing the atomic bomb's devastation 'to the People of Japan', the political situation became dreadfully clear. The message: surrender, or we will 'use this bomb… to bring this war to a swift, irresistible conclusion'. The weapon made a mockery of Japan's war effort. 'The bamboo spear against the atomic bomb! What a tragic comedy this was!' Nagai despaired. 'This was no longer a war. Would we Japanese… be annihilated without a word of protest?' On August 14, Japan surrendered. 'We all held hands and wept,' he recalled. 'The sun set and the moon rose; but we could not stop weeping.' For what had their friends and family died for? Despite his anguish, Nagai couldn't help but admire this 'victory of science'. In one rather unnerving scene, the wretched medics gather in a dugout for a reverent discussion about nuclear physics. 'We can't deny that it is a tremendous scientific achievement, this atom bomb,' one said, as they talked shop in an atomic hellscape. Later in the book, Nagai tells his children that the atomic age could still be glorious, if nuclear energy were to replace coal, oil and electricity, and its military uses were curtailed. 'If we use its power well, it will bring a tremendous leap forward in human civilisation. If we use it badly, we will destroy the earth.' The month after Japan's surrender, Nagai 'collapsed into bed like a stone falling into the valley'. He lapsed into a coma. By some miracle, he awoke, but he knew his destiny: at the time of the bombing, he had already been dying of leukemia, caused by exposure to X-rays during a mass screening programme for tuberculosis. The second torrent of radiation quickened his decline. Soon, he knew, his children would be orphans. He described his five-year-old daughter playing alone with her toys: the head of a doll, some bottles, a mirror frame. She had no option. 'All her friends are dead,' Nagai wrote. She chattered with ghosts. Soon after, Nagai moved to a tiny hut near the centre of the explosion. From his sickbed, his spleen swelling up, he wrote a series of bestselling books. The Bells of Nagasaki was completed in 1946 and published three years later. In 1949, Nagai was Japan's most-read author, and by then he was a celebrity of sorts. He was also a devout Catholic: Eva Perón sent him a statue of the Virgin, Pope Pius XII a rosary. Hirohito, the emperor of defeated Japan, paid him a visit. By this point, however, Nagai was a divisive figure. Three months after the bombing, he had given a speech in the red ruins of the once-majestic Urakami Cathedral, in which he cast the event not as a monstrous war crime, but as a grace from God, for which the city should give thanks. To his mind, Urakami, home to the largest Christian community in Japan, had been chosen as 'a victim, a pure lamb, to be slaughtered and burned on the altar of sacrifice to expiate the sins committed by humanity in the Second World War'. It was due to the sacrifice of 8,000 pure Catholics that God had finally brought the war to an end. In that address, which is reprinted in The Bells of Nagasaki, Nagai drew on a long local history of martyrdom. Christian missionaries had travelled to Japan in the 16th century, on Dutch and Portuguese ships; and their word quickly spread. In 1597, 26 Catholics had been crucified in Urakami as the shogunate suppressed Christianity; for centuries after, persecuted 'Hidden Christians' had been forced to worship in secret. Now, Nagai painted the city's Christians as martyrs once more: 'How noble, how splendid was that holocaust of August 9, when flames soared up from the cathedral, dispelling the darkness of war and bringing the light of peace!' In sanctifying the atomic bomb, Nagai appalled many of his countrymen. The Americans had justified their mass slaughter of civilians in Hiroshima and Nagasaki by arguing that the bombs put an end to the war, and thus prevented further bloodshed; Nagai's talk of a heavenly inferno seemed to strengthen their defence. As the veteran journalist Richard Lloyd Parry puts it, in his introduction to the new edition of The Bells of Nagasaki: 'Without setting out to do so, Nagai provided the Americans with the home-grown expression of ideas they needed to shore up their moral authority.' Perhaps this is why Nagai's book slipped past the occupying US censors. Nonetheless, in Nagasaki, Nagai was celebrated as a quasi-saint. In a wasteland yearning for meaning, he offered a comforting alternative to a tale of pointless and excruciating suffering. And he did so in a way, Parry tells me, that suggested 'that rather than being the concluding acts of a 15-year war of colonisation into which Japan had enthusiastically marched, the atomic bombings were almost like a natural disaster, literally an act of God, over which the Japanese had no control and for which they bore no responsibility'. In the book, Nagai presents his speech to an old friend who'd lost his cherished wife and five children; the friend is greatly consoled. The book also contains a poignant sketch by Nagai of his wife ascending to Heaven on the tip of a mushroom cloud: a reminder that this grieving widower was seeking solace himself. Yet many on the Left, Parry tells me, regarded Nagai as 'at best a naïve enabler of the Americans and conservative Japanese, at worst a reactionary collaborator, whose writing 'anaesthetised' its readers and prevented them from identifying those responsible for the war'. While Hiroshima became the cradle of a furious peace movement, which was determined to abolish nuclear weapons, Nagasaki withdrew in stoic sorrow. Few could read The Bells of Nagasaki today and not tremble at the thought of another nuclear conflict. At one point, Nagai is visited by two former students, returning from the war with bitter hearts. 'We must get our revenge,' they say. 'Even if it takes ten years, we'll win this war.' But Nagai tells them: 'If you had seen the hell that opened up on earth before our eyes, you would never, never entertain the crazy thought of another war. If there is another war, atomic bombs will explode everywhere, and innumerable ordinary people will be annihilated in the flash of a split second.' On May 1 1951, Nagai died, aged 43. Around 20,000 mourners attended his funeral, swarming the entrance to Urakami Cathedral. Today, as belligerent nations pack their armouries with nuclear warheads, his book offers an urgent warning. 'Men and women of the world, never again plan war!' he implores us from the grave. 'Grant that Urakami may be the last atomic wilderness in the history of the world.'

Black chicken and green rice: Cynthia Shanmugalingam's recipes for a Sri Lankan summer barbecue

The Guardian

8 hours ago

The Guardian

Black chicken and green rice: Cynthia Shanmugalingam's recipes for a Sri Lankan summer barbecue

In the 1990s, my cousin Sri Anna was a senior Sri Lankan policeman. Surprisingly for us, visiting from England, that meant he got a driver, a gun, a nice pad to live in and a team of sensational cooks to dish up various delicacies from wherever he was stationed. In the south, his favourite was black pork curry, and at my restaurant Rambutan we now make a marinade from similar spices for pineapple, beef and, my preference, chicken, before we grill it over coals. To lift it a little, the bird is finished with a quick fragrant oil of tempered spices and parsley (similar to the peppery island herb we call vallarai). You can eat it with or without the cool, green coconut rice and tomato sambol, which is my attempt to recreate a very tasty lunch I had at one of my favourite Colombo spots, Taste of Asia. Fragrant with spices, cooked in coconut milk and with a grassy, fresh taste from the greens, this rice is very quick and easy, and perfect with the citrussy, tomato sambol that you find all over the island. Prep 10 minCook 40 minServes 4 For the rice50g spinach, washed15g fresh coriander, washed2½cm piece fresh root ginger, peeled2 garlic cloves, peeled250g white rice 25g salted butter 3 green cardamom pods, gently crushed5 black peppercorns150ml coconut milk 2 tsp salt For the sambol1 large ripe tomato, cut into 10-12 wedges½ large red onion, peeled and finely sliced1-2 green finger chillies, finely sliced, or to taste2 limes 1 tsp salt, to taste1 tbsp coconut oil, or neutral oil Put the spinach, coriander, ginger and garlic in a small blender or food processor, and blitz to a smooth paste – you want all the fibres to break down, so you may need to add a splash of water to help things along. Put the rice in a fine-meshed strainer and rinse under cold running water for about a minute, until the water runs mostly clear (this helps remove any surface starch, so the grains will be fluffy and separate when cooked). Leave the rice to drain. Melt the butter in a medium-sized pan on a medium heat, then add the cardamom and black peppercorns and cook on a low heat for a minute or two – the spices should turn fragrant and start to sizzle slightly, but the butter should not be browned. Stir the washed rice and blended greens into the butter, then pour in the coconut milk, salt and 300ml water, and bring to a boil. Turn down to a low simmer, cover and cook for 17-20 minutes, until the rice is cooked through and has absorbed all the liquid; stir occasionally to prevent sticking. Once the rice is cooked, turn off the heat and leave covered to keep warm while you make the sambol. In a bowl, combine the tomato, red onion and green chilli. Season with lime juice, salt and oil, then taste and add more salt if need be. Mix well, making sure to break up the onion slices. To assemble the dish, spread the rice over a large platter. Spoon some sambol over some of the rice, put the rest in a bowl to the side and serve. Prep 15 minMarinade 2 hr+Cook 1 hr 15 minServes 4 For the black spice mix1 tsp cumin seeds 1 tsp fennel seeds 2 tsp black peppercorns 1 stick cinnamon 1 tsp cardamom seeds 1 tsp mustard seeds 1 tsp fenugreek seeds 1 tsp cloves seeds 2 tsp chilli powder For the chicken1 large whole chicken (about 1½-2kg)4 tbsp black spice mix (see above and method)1 head garlic, cloves separated and peeled 1 handful curry leaves, fresh, ideally120ml cider vinegar1 tbsp salt 3 large red onions, peeled and cut into wedges3 sticks lemongrass For the temper100ml coconut oil, or neutral cooking oil½ tbsp mustard seeds ½ tsp cumin seeds ¼ tsp fennel seeds 4-5 fresh curry leaves ½ bunch parsley, finely chopped1 shallot, peeled and finely diced2 garlic cloves, peeled and finely diced 2 tsp cider vinegar Salt, to taste Roast all the whole spices for the spice mix (ie, everything bar the chilli powder) in a dry frying pan on a low to medium heat, stirring often, for five minutes, until they smell fragrant. Take off the heat, leave to cool, then tip into a spice grinder or mortar and blitz or grind to a fine powder. Put the powder back in the dry pan and toast on a high heat, stirring constantly, for a minute or two, until it turns dark brown and almost black in colour; this will turn them nutty and almost smoky. Take off the heat, leave to cool completely, then stir in the chilli powder. Store in a clean sealed jar and use within two months. Turn the chicken breast side down, use kitchen scissors to cut all the way along each side of the backbone, then lift it out and discard (or save for stock). Flip the bird over so it's now breast side up, then press down with the palm of your hand to flatten and spatchcock it. For the marinade, mix four tablespoons of the black spice mix in a roasting tray with the peeled garlic, curry leaves, vinegar, salt and red onions. Rub this mixture all over the bird, making sure you get it into all the crevices and under the skin, then cover and put in the fridge to marinade for two hours or overnight. Take the chicken out of the fridge at least half an hour before you want to cook it. Lightly bash the lemongrass stalks, so they smell fragrant. To barbecue the bird, lay it skin side down over medium-heat coals, put the lemongrass on top, then cover with foil. After 20 minutes, uncover and grill for 20 minutes more, until the skin crisps up and the chicken is cooked through yet juicy – if you have a probe, it should have an internal temperature of 70C. Alternatively, cover and roast in an 200C (180C fan)/390F/gas 6 oven for about 40 minutes, again topped with the lemongrass, until the juices run clear. Put the chicken to one side to rest for 10 minutes. Meanwhile, make the quick tempered oil. Put the oil in a small pan on a medium heat and, once it's hot, add the mustard seeds and cook for 20 seconds, until they start to pop a little (be careful not to burn them, though). Turn down the heat, add the cumin and fennel seeds, and cook for 30 or so seconds, until fragrant. Tip into a bowl, stir in the curry leaves and leave to cool to warm. Stir the parsley, shallot, garlic and vinegar into the cooled temper, then season to taste. Carve the chicken, arrange on a platter, dress with the parsley temper and serve. Cynthia Shanmugalingam is chef/owner of Rambutan, London SE1

The Guardian

8 hours ago

The Guardian

Black chicken and green rice: Cynthia Shanmugalingam's recipes for a Sri Lankan summer barbecue

In the 1990s, my cousin Sri Anna was a senior Sri Lankan policeman. Surprisingly for us, visiting from England, that meant he got a driver, a gun, a nice pad to live in and a team of sensational cooks to dish up various delicacies from wherever he was stationed. In the south, his favourite was black pork curry, and at my restaurant Rambutan we now make a marinade from similar spices for pineapple, beef and, my preference, chicken, before we grill it over coals. To lift it a little, the bird is finished with a quick fragrant oil of tempered spices and parsley (similar to the peppery island herb we call vallarai). You can eat it with or without the cool, green coconut rice and tomato sambol, which is my attempt to recreate a very tasty lunch I had at one of my favourite Colombo spots, Taste of Asia. Fragrant with spices, cooked in coconut milk and with a grassy, fresh taste from the greens, this rice is very quick and easy, and perfect with the citrussy, tomato sambol that you find all over the island. Prep 10 minCook 40 minServes 4 For the rice50g spinach, washed15g fresh coriander, washed2½cm piece fresh root ginger, peeled2 garlic cloves, peeled250g white rice 25g salted butter 3 green cardamom pods, gently crushed5 black peppercorns150ml coconut milk 2 tsp salt For the sambol1 large ripe tomato, cut into 10-12 wedges½ large red onion, peeled and finely sliced1-2 green finger chillies, finely sliced, or to taste2 limes 1 tsp salt, to taste1 tbsp coconut oil, or neutral oil Put the spinach, coriander, ginger and garlic in a small blender or food processor, and blitz to a smooth paste – you want all the fibres to break down, so you may need to add a splash of water to help things along. Put the rice in a fine-meshed strainer and rinse under cold running water for about a minute, until the water runs mostly clear (this helps remove any surface starch, so the grains will be fluffy and separate when cooked). Leave the rice to drain. Melt the butter in a medium-sized pan on a medium heat, then add the cardamom and black peppercorns and cook on a low heat for a minute or two – the spices should turn fragrant and start to sizzle slightly, but the butter should not be browned. Stir the washed rice and blended greens into the butter, then pour in the coconut milk, salt and 300ml water, and bring to a boil. Turn down to a low simmer, cover and cook for 17-20 minutes, until the rice is cooked through and has absorbed all the liquid; stir occasionally to prevent sticking. Once the rice is cooked, turn off the heat and leave covered to keep warm while you make the sambol. In a bowl, combine the tomato, red onion and green chilli. Season with lime juice, salt and oil, then taste and add more salt if need be. Mix well, making sure to break up the onion slices. To assemble the dish, spread the rice over a large platter. Spoon some sambol over some of the rice, put the rest in a bowl to the side and serve. Prep 15 minMarinade 2 hr+Cook 1 hr 15 minServes 4 For the black spice mix1 tsp cumin seeds 1 tsp fennel seeds 2 tsp black peppercorns 1 stick cinnamon 1 tsp cardamom seeds 1 tsp mustard seeds 1 tsp fenugreek seeds 1 tsp cloves seeds 2 tsp chilli powder For the chicken1 large whole chicken (about 1½-2kg)4 tbsp black spice mix (see above and method)1 head garlic, cloves separated and peeled 1 handful curry leaves, fresh, ideally120ml cider vinegar1 tbsp salt 3 large red onions, peeled and cut into wedges3 sticks lemongrass For the temper100ml coconut oil, or neutral cooking oil½ tbsp mustard seeds ½ tsp cumin seeds ¼ tsp fennel seeds 4-5 fresh curry leaves ½ bunch parsley, finely chopped1 shallot, peeled and finely diced2 garlic cloves, peeled and finely diced 2 tsp cider vinegar Salt, to taste Roast all the whole spices for the spice mix (ie, everything bar the chilli powder) in a dry frying pan on a low to medium heat, stirring often, for five minutes, until they smell fragrant. Take off the heat, leave to cool, then tip into a spice grinder or mortar and blitz or grind to a fine powder. Put the powder back in the dry pan and toast on a high heat, stirring constantly, for a minute or two, until it turns dark brown and almost black in colour; this will turn them nutty and almost smoky. Take off the heat, leave to cool completely, then stir in the chilli powder. Store in a clean sealed jar and use within two months. Turn the chicken breast side down, use kitchen scissors to cut all the way along each side of the backbone, then lift it out and discard (or save for stock). Flip the bird over so it's now breast side up, then press down with the palm of your hand to flatten and spatchcock it. For the marinade, mix four tablespoons of the black spice mix in a roasting tray with the peeled garlic, curry leaves, vinegar, salt and red onions. Rub this mixture all over the bird, making sure you get it into all the crevices and under the skin, then cover and put in the fridge to marinade for two hours or overnight. Take the chicken out of the fridge at least half an hour before you want to cook it. Lightly bash the lemongrass stalks, so they smell fragrant. To barbecue the bird, lay it skin side down over medium-heat coals, put the lemongrass on top, then cover with foil. After 20 minutes, uncover and grill for 20 minutes more, until the skin crisps up and the chicken is cooked through yet juicy – if you have a probe, it should have an internal temperature of 70C. Alternatively, cover and roast in an 200C (180C fan)/390F/gas 6 oven for about 40 minutes, again topped with the lemongrass, until the juices run clear. Put the chicken to one side to rest for 10 minutes. Meanwhile, make the quick tempered oil. Put the oil in a small pan on a medium heat and, once it's hot, add the mustard seeds and cook for 20 seconds, until they start to pop a little (be careful not to burn them, though). Turn down the heat, add the cumin and fennel seeds, and cook for 30 or so seconds, until fragrant. Tip into a bowl, stir in the curry leaves and leave to cool to warm. Stir the parsley, shallot, garlic and vinegar into the cooled temper, then season to taste. Carve the chicken, arrange on a platter, dress with the parsley temper and serve. Cynthia Shanmugalingam is chef/owner of Rambutan, London SE1

In Hiroshima, search for remains keeps war alive for lone volunteer

Hashtags

Try Our AI Features

Comments

Related Articles

The doctor who survived Nagasaki – and the horrors he saw

Black chicken and green rice: Cynthia Shanmugalingam's recipes for a Sri Lankan summer barbecue

Black chicken and green rice: Cynthia Shanmugalingam's recipes for a Sri Lankan summer barbecue

In Hiroshima, search for remains keeps war alive for lone volunteer

Hashtags

Try Our AI Features

Comments

Related Articles

The doctor who survived Nagasaki – and the horrors he saw

Black chicken and green rice: Cynthia Shanmugalingam's recipes for a Sri Lankan summer barbecue

Black chicken and green rice: Cynthia Shanmugalingam's recipes for a Sri Lankan summer barbecue

Get Started Now: Download the App