First I'd like to tell how Senji Yamaguchi, 77-year-old resident of a care facility in the city of Unzen, Nagasaki Prefecture, came to recover his shattered health.

His chronic asthma getting worse, he was practically bedridden throughout the winter. "Please come when the weather's warmer," he'd say to me every time I phoned him.

In mid-April I went to visit him. We hadn't seen each other in six months. I found him not in his room but in the lobby. Seeing him up and about was a pleasant surprise.

"This came today," he said, handing me an envelope. It was a notice sent by Hidankyo, a hibakusha support group on whose committee Yamaguchi serves, to its prefectural branches throughout Japan. The notice concerned the government's revised standards for officially recognizing hibakusha -- and compensating them for medical expenses arising from their exposure to atom bomb radiation. Ill though he was, he had been busy during the winter gathering information on the issue.

"It was an important job that needed to be done," he said.

During our 20-minute interview he spoke softly but laughed often. Numerous problems had arisen regarding an appropriate response to the new standards. Still, Yamaguchi was clearly pleased. His happy face that day was like a ray of spring sunshine.

The new standards, which went into effect in April, recognized as hibakusha 149 individuals who had been denied medical compensation under the old standards. One who was not accorded recognition is Seikou Komatsu of Asaminami-ku in Hiroshima. Hospitalized since January, Komatsu, 72, had filed a lawsuit over the government's failure to grant him official hibakusha status. He has lately recovered to the point of being able to get food down, but the prospects for his suit remain unclear.

"I'm afraid he's over-exerting himself," said his wife anxiously over the telephone.

At a senior citizens' home in Hiroshima's Minami-ku, Suzuko Numata, 84, was lying down to ease the pains of rheumatism. Trembling in every limb, she rises and allows a staff member to lead her to a wheelchair. She says her rib bones could brake at any time.

In public lectures on her experiences as a hibakusha, Numata often speaks of the "hibaku aogiri," a Chinese parasol tree in Hiroshima's Peace Park.

In late April in the city of Fukuyama, Hiroshima Prefecture, several young offshoots of the hibaku aogiri were uprooted. The attack seems part of a recent wave of vandalism against flowers at scattered locations across the country.

"Plants and flowers are vessels of life," says Numata. "Peace starts with an ability to feel the pain of others. I'll deliver that message as long as I have life in me."

Her life is a perpetual struggle with illness, but she doesn't lose hope.

Copyright 2005-2006 THE MAINICHI NEWSPAPERS. All rights reserved. Mainichi features the best news in Japan, current news in Japan, Japan news in English, Japan business news, Tokyo Japan news, and Japan entertainment news. Mainichi News is syndicated in accordance with editorial regulations: personal and noncommercial purposes.

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