These are the plants that endured the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Thanks to a pro bono effort, they are now conveying a message of peace to the world.
by Cristina Manfredi
It is 8:15 a.m. on August 6, 1945, and something unimaginable is happening in the skies over Hiroshima. The American bomber Enola Gay, piloted by Colonel Paul Tibbets, dropped the first atomic bomb in history to be used in a conflict, followed three days later by the second atomic bomb, which hit Nagasaki. The explosion, which took place about 600 meters above the ground to increase its destructive power, immediately killed between 70 and 80 thousand people (almost all of them civilians) and leveled about 90% of the buildings, including all the temples of the city, not to mention the gigantic number of injured and people who, over time, suffered severe consequences from exposure to radioactivity. A simple search on the Internet is enough to see the still shocking images of the devastation of these places after the massacre. A city annihilated. A total erasure of men, women, children, houses, and palaces, a world that knows only the tones of a ghostly white, of gray, of black, until something happens the following spring. Amid all this nothingness, plants sprout.
Within a radius of two kilometers from the hypocenter of Hiroshima, where everyone agreed that no plant could grow for at least 75 years, some trees appear dead. Many are marked by wounds that, over time, become scars. Those closest to the explosion are wounded, but they are alive, becoming the first valid symbol of hope for the surviving population. Today, there are 160 of just under thirty different species, including figs, bamboo, cherry trees, ginkgo, camellias, camphor, peonies, azaleas, and weeping willows. Of the latter type, for example, there is one that is only 370 meters from the hypocenter and is still standing today. The Japanese hold deep respect for these plants, which they collectively call "Hibakujumoku," a term combining "tree" and "hit by the bomb." They have officially registered and, in some instances, relocated these trees to aid in reconstruction efforts. Today, they continue to care for them diligently, just as they did in the past, including the approximately 50 Hibakujumoku in Nagasaki. But these unique creatures have something more to offer the Earth.
Two women are convinced of this. One of them is Nassrine Azimi, the former director of UNITAR's Hiroshima headquarters, an independent organization associated with the United Nations, devoted to the scientific research and training of political, economic, and diplomatic professionals, currently serves as a consultant and professor at the nearby Shudo University. The other is Tomoko Watanabe, Executive Director of ANT, the Asian Network of Trust in Hiroshima, which is educating new generations of Japanese in compassion and initiating peace-building projects in countries such as Afghanistan, Pakistan, Nepal and Bangladesh, inspired by the spirit of reconciliation of the survivors of the 1945 atomic bombing.
In 2011, they founded the Green Legacy Hiroshima Initiative, a deliberately small reality with an important mission: to plant Hibakujumoku seeds around the world, as Azimi explains to Slowear Magazine.
What inspired you to establish Green Legacy Hiroshima?
N.A.: After finishing my work as director of UNITAR in Hiroshima, I wanted to do something important. I met many visitors, and they often asked me what they could do at home to keep the message of Hiroshima alive. The trees stand as a compelling testament, yet the city's residents failed to consider their significance. Even co-founder Tomoko, who was born and lived here, admits that she rarely saw them, seeing them as decoration. Perhaps an external perspective was necessary to truly appreciate them.
What does the organization do?
N.A.: The work is simple: we collect seeds of different species and send them to other parts of the world to be planted. This is the message that makes these gestures valuable.
Oh? And what is it?
N.A.: There is a strong connection between the Hibakujumoku and everything happening in the world today, starting with the renewed nuclear threat. Through our work, we want to tell the world that those who receive the seeds must carry on their legacy. A delegation of some of the world's most experienced plant scientists arrived some time ago, and I took them to one of my favourite places. It is a grove next to Peace Avenue, one of the busiest streets in Hiroshima. They are trees of nine different species and have survived both the traffic and the bomb. I asked one of the scholars about the reason, and she promptly responded, "It's because their roots are interconnected; they are united." Hibakujumoku is like an orchestra, and that's why they did it; that's the message.
How does the request work?
N.A.: We like to say that this is a thousand-year commitment, so we carefully select the recipients of the seeds. We choose institutions like botanical gardens and universities because they have stood the test of time. It is challenging to close universities, even in critical areas such as Afghanistan, where we have sent seeds. Microsoft requested them, but we chose not to provide them.
What happens once your approval is obtained?
N.A.: We find out which species can adapt to the climate of the place they will be sent to, collect them, send them off, and then ask for regular reports. Every six months, they are required to send us photos and details, and we encourage them to include explanatory plaques. It can be challenging. For example, the seeds can't be directly delivered in Italy post-pandemic. Then, we rely on a botanical garden in Northern Ireland to receive and distribute them for us.
What phase of this process gets you most excited?
N.A.: The collection phase. Hibakujumoku are plants that show signs of damage, with burn marks and numerous scars. Despite their scars, they are remarkably productive and generously provide us with "offspring" to send out into the world. No matter what they've endured, trees hold no hatred toward anyone.