Mise Seiichiro was playing the organ at his home in Nagasaki around 11 a.m. on August 9, 1945. He was pressing the lower notes on the keyboard and imitating the sound of an American B-29 engine. His grandmother approached and told him to stop. As Mise reluctantly closed the organ lid, there was a blinding flash ― and the world changed forever.
With each passing year, there are fewer opportunities to listen to the stories of hibakusha atomic bomb survivors like Mise. Those who are left are old: their average age is over 85.
In Nagasaki, there is a renewed sense of urgency in the effort to preserve the voices of survivors and ensure their stories are heard by younger generations in Japan and the rest of the world. The push comes as global conflicts stoke fears that nuclear weapons could be used again.
