The Words of the Hashimoto Family
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The Words of the Hashimoto Family |
The
author (back row, center) with other Japanese members visiting a home
for aged women who had worked as "comfort women." He has
been visiting them regularly and has asked them to look upon him as a
surrogate son.
Built with donations from individuals in Korea and Japan on land donated by a Korean businesswoman, the House of Sharing opened its doors in 1996. As well as being a residence for former "comfort women," it is also the site of the Japanese Military Comfort Women History Museum.
I married a Korean woman in 1992 and came to Korea at the end of that year. To give you an idea about the situation in those days, here are some examples:
An elderly man who was a bit drunk stormed into our place, saying, "Is this where the Japanese lives?"
A student with whom we became friends told me, "My grandfather was killed by the Japanese."
While having a meal with someone we'd become close to, he said, "My grandfather actually had one arm cut off by the Japanese. Even though we're eating together as friends like this, there are moments when I get the sudden urge to cut off your arm."
After experiences like these, I tried to do some service work in the neighborhood, such as cleaning. I got the idea of offering an apology as a Japanese. With the help of a friend who was fluent in Korean, I wrote a letter of apology, and set an area with 360 homes to visit, one by one. However, thinking I should offer some kind of service in addition to the apology, after much thought, I decided to polish shoes, which was something I could do at the doorway.
Jesus washed his disciples' feet, and Father tied Mr. Kamiyama's shoelaces. As messiah of my Home Church, I came by the idea of cleaning the shoes of the people in my mission area. The idea came to me almost like a revelation or arising wisdom, as opposed to being an idea I came up with.
The local people responded so dramatically, that some scenes are fixed deeply in my memory. The response of families who had a religion was especially warm. One Christian invited me into his home saying, "It's not possible to do something like this unless the spirit of God enters you!" He gave me a hug and a big welcome. Another person welcomed me, saying, "You deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for this!"
As I was doing this, about 1993 or 1994, I heard about the old Korean women who used to be "comfort women."' I wanted to visit them, but it was hard to gather the courage to do that. Time passed. Around 2002 or 2003, a Japanese lady who had come from Japan to witness in Korea said that she would like to visit the House of Sharing and offer an apology. I decided to go with her. Interestingly enough, the following day, while witnessing, I visited the government office of the ward where I live. As I was talking to the ward leader, he mentioned that the House of Sharing was located in his hometown, Daecheon Village, in the city of Gwangju in Gyeonggi Province. He said, "I've been meaning to visit it but I haven't been able to so far. Let's go together." So the next day, we went on our first visit, in the ward leader's car.
The lady from Japan, two other Japanese sisters, the ward leader and I -- five of us -- visited with gifts of orchids and fruit. When we arrived, a local city council member who was a friend of the ward leader joined us and told us about various things. At the time, there were twelve old women, referred to as "grandmothers." I intended to offer a full bow to express my apology, but the grandmas said, "It wasn't your fault directly, so you don't have to apologize." They said they absolutely would not accept a bow from me, so I shouldn't do it. Thus, on that day I wasn't able to offer a bow; I could only apologize in words.
Annexed to the House of Sharing is a museum, through the exhibits of which We could clearly understand the suffering of the ex-comfort women. There was 8 min film footage of a woman who was pregnant, and of another who threw herself off a cliff and committed suicide.
One of the grandmothers had learned to draw, and described her own experiences in drawings, which were very shocking. How much they had suffered, and how much han (resentment, etc.) they must have, left a deep impression on us. This first visit made me resolve to myself, that Korean-Japanese, Japanese-Korean couples living in Korea should take the initiative to somehow comfort the hearts of the grandmothers even if only a little.
Some months later, I invited the Japanese members of the Uiwang church where we belong to join me on my second visit. This time, about five Japanese members offered to buy the former comfort women a meal. On the recommendation of a House of Sharing staff member, we went to a specialty place for smoked duck that the grandmother's like. Frankly, I'm not sure how much they actually enjoyed the meal.
When I visited, perhaps for the third time, the thought that came was that these grandmas probably feel the most lonely and sad around Lunar New Year and Chuseok. Having a Korean woman as a wife and living in Korea, the aspect of Korean culture that inspired me the most was the custom of visiting parents and grandparents during these holidays, no matter how far away the hometown was, to offer full bows and pay one's respects. When I was in Japan, I lived in the Tokyo suburbs for twenty-six years, but I recall visiting my grandparents in Nagoya (less than three hours away by express train) only about five times.
Once, it took us about thirteen hours by bus in a traffic jam to visit my wife's hometown. Inwardly I thought, "Do we really have to come this far to visit?" But looking around at the other passengers, I was moved that they all looked happy with the expectation of visiting their homes, rather than tired.
Yet, these grandmas were unable to even get married because of Japan, and as a result, they had no children or grandchildren who would visit them during the holidays -- and my heart was choked. My wife is quite a pure soul, "like a maiden who came down from heaven," and when I imagined how pure the women of Korea' decades ago must have been at the time of the Second Advent of the Lord, I felt that Japan's crime of trampling on these women was immense.
Thus, when we were invited to a memorial ceremony held at the House of Sharing on August 15, 2006, I took the opportunity to offer apologies once again in front of the gathering. From this time, (though relatively speaking, I am their enemy's descendant) I began visiting the grandmas during the holidays as their son or grandson to offer them a small allowance, just as I would to my parents-in-law.
I tried to visit them one or two times a year, a few days to a week before the holidays. I said, "I hope you can receive this as though a son is bringing a small allowance for the holidays," and offered it to each person, one by one. They were very happy. One time, a grandmother who had been forcibly taken by the Japanese told me, "Your descendants will receive blessings," which is strongly imprinted in my mind. I think that many people might visit the House of Sharing once, and that would be the last time for them. I believe it's necessary for the Japanese blessed members living in Korea to become families for the grandmas, and to resolve their han over their being unable to create their own families.
It was a precious experience to meet the "grandmothers" still living, who give their testimonies of the time, to hear them speak directly to us, and to be able to apologize to them directly. I feel that our collective sin is being resolved through this "movement to offer apologies." Through this movement, I was able to spend a very meaningful time, personally visiting the House of Sharing. I was aware that my homeland, Okinawa, was the bloodiest battlefield during World War II, but I learned for the first time that there had been "comfort stations" and numerous "comfort women" there also.