There are no Winners in War

May 25.

It was a unique day. We visited two museums, the Yasukuni Museum and the Women's Active Museum on War and Peace. At first glance, they seem to be different though they tackle the same era in the history of mankind, the Second World War.

Yasukuni remembers the sacrifices and deaths of Japanese soldiers/civilians who fought for Emeperor Hirohito. Initially, I was bored...the exhibits have barely any English translations so all I could really do was to look at the intricate designs of shojos, daitos, samurai swords, and the samurai shields and fittings. Towards the last few exhibits, I was struck by the "last letters/last messages" of those who died during the war. Written/Translated in English and printed in green plaques. They contain deep, raw emotions....through the letters...I witnessed a father declaring his love for his children, asking for pardon for now being with them as they grow up....I saw a husband expressing his love for his wife...they have been married three months before he was sent to the battlefield...I witnessed a son who asks his mother for pardon for causing her pain and anxiety and one last pardon for dying before her....I cried for a young nurse who wrote her parents to say that she wanted to live long as a nurse...but died during the war instead.

 I left that museum with a heavy heart.

WAM Museum is an activist abode. The institution bravely fights for the plight of the comfort women  who were abused and oppressed by the Japanese soldiers. I am not new to these stories but while watching a documentary of the women of confessed their traumatic experiences inside the comfort stations established in Japanese barracks, I couldn't help but cry. I cried for them. The pain and the misery they suffered. I cried for the young teenage Filipina who was forced to service 30 men per day... I cried for the Dutch woman who was raped and then beaten... I cried for the wife who was rejected, spatted, and cursed by her husband after she was forcibly used by Japanese soldiers...he said she was useless and dirty after being used by dogs... I cried for the young woman who locked herself to the bathroom because her whole body was in pain but the soldiers tortured her even more.

Two museums.

Different perspectives.

I got the same feeling...that deep and unfathomable pit of sadness. 

How can men do this to other men?

I am not naive... I have studied and read about wars and deaths... Still, the stories of these individual men and women struck me. The humanity of it all.

I can only utter a simple prayer...a wish that wherever these people might be now... I hope they are in a better place. I hope that all their sorrows and worries...all their experiences during the war have been...replaced...withered away by tranquility. 

I was also very grateful. Grateful to be in this situation...grateful for my life..I really got everything easy compared to these people. I have no right to complain about life and my petty problems... I am nothing compared to these people... I am really nothing compared to what they had to endure and, some of them survived. I am grateful for my life.

At the end of the day, I was more human...more aware..more open-mnded...more at peace.

I stand by my principle. The world is already a chaotic place, I will not put unnecessary burden to other people. Instead, I do what I can to make other people's life lighter.