Here, far from the sites of devastation, Korean survivors of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bombings came together to remember, to mourn and to insist that their story, though marginalised for so long, would not be forgotten.
Some leaned heavily on canes, others clutched handkerchiefs in trembling hands. The altar, adorned with white chrysanthemums, stood at the centre of an overwhelming silence – both an expression of sorrow and a testament to a history long consigned to the shadows.
“We hid that we were victims after returning to our village,” said 83-year-old Ahn Won-sang, whose family was in Hiroshima at the time of the bombing. “When people found out you were in Japan, they avoided you. They thought they’d get contaminated just by being near atomic bomb survivors.”
