Bahasa Jiwa Bangsa!

Sepatutnya Kak Teh tak berbelog dalam saat-saat yang genting ini, tapi selepas melayari beberapa buah belog rakan-rakan belog di alam belogsfera dalam dua tiga hari ni, Kak Teh ternampak kempen yang agak giat untuk berbelog dalam bahasa Malaysia pada hari ulangtahun kemerdekaan Malaysia yang ke-48. Kak Teh tengok di belog Sharon Bakar yang dapat dari belog Eyeris.
Mula-mula teringat jugak nak buat syair merdeka, tetapi memandangkan entri syair asyik kena spam aje, Kak Teh rasa baiklah Kak Teh menulis tentang hari perayaan Merdeka.

Tahun ini sedih sekali sebab kami di London taklah dapat merayakan Hari Keluarga sempena Hari Merdeka seperti tahun-tahun lalu sebab dibatalkan dengan sebab-sebab keselamatan. Biasanya di London, kami akan mendapat jemputan ke hotel terkemuka oleh pihak Pesuruhjaya Tinggi Malaysia di London- adalah makan-makan sikit, tak banyak. Taklah dapat makan sekenyang-kenyangnya. Maklumlah makan di hotel, berdiri dan terpaksalah jaga adab makan minum, kan? Dan selalunya, perayaan Hari Keluarga diadakan tidak lama selepas itu di Brickendonbury – di perkarangan Pusat Penyelidikan Getah Tun Abdul Razak. Dah dua tiga tahun Kak Teh tak pergi sebab terpaksa balik ke Malaysia pada masa tu. Tahun lepas Mak sakit, tahun sebelum tu pulak, anak saudara kawin. Tahun ni nak pergi, dah cancel pulak.

Kak Teh memang suka pergi sebab di situlah dapat berjumpa rakyat Malaysia ramai-ramai – makan, minum bertemasya. Satu tahun tu, Kak Teh jual mee bandung, sardine rolls dan karipap! Ya, Tuhan lakunyaaaaaa! Tak menang tanganlah kata orang. Sambil menjual sambil menyanyi lagu Grease. Jangan tanya apa kena mengena merdeka dengan mee bandung dan lagu Grease Lightning. Tapi asalkan laku. Lagipun masa tu tak dapat CD Alleycats lagi. Kalau tidak sengau habis bergema di Brickendonbury!

Tahun selepas tu pulak, memanglah nak jual mee bandung jugak, tapi perayaan Merdeka dirundung berita sedih kematian Puteri Diana. Kak Teh ingat lagi, berkebaya merah menyala keluar dengan kru Tv untuk membuat liputan perayaan ni. Tapi separuh jalan dengar berita kematian Puteri yang cantik jelita tu.. Sampai saja di rumah Pesuruhjaya Tinggi, Kak Teh nampak kawan-kawan - terutama yang wanita semuanya menangis sebak selepas mendapat berita ni. Maklumlah, sapa yang tak sayang Diana, kan? Jadi selepas tu, Kak Teh pun terus pergi ke Buckingham Palace – alah, kat luar saja. Bukan boleh masuk ke dalam pun. Boleh lah buat liputan sedikit mengenai tragedy yang menyentuh setiap orang. Kak Teh pun memang sedih. Maklumlah dia tinggal anak-anak masih kecik lagi.

Eh, terlupa – ceritanya pasal merdeka, dah tersasul ke cerita Diana pulak. Tapi memanglah, setiap perayaan merdeka, akan terkenang nasib Puteri Diana sebab kemalangan itu berlaku pada hari ulangtahun merdeka.

Tapi Hari Keluarga tetap diadakan masa tu – Cuma ditangguh seminggu. Takkan nak bertemasya masa-masa begini, kan? Kak Teh pun jual jugak mee bandung. Tapi tahun ni kurang laris sebab Kak Teh asyik nak main netball. Lepas netball main musical chair, sampai terduduk atas riba orang! Ish, tak senonoh Kak Teh ni!

Masa kecik-kecik dulu, Kak Teg teringat jugak. Berminggu-minggu sebelum hari merdeka, terpaksa berlatih menari. Sebab Kak Teh di sekolah Convent, jadi, kami diajar tarian Scottish. Seronok betul. Bukan pasal apa. Sebab bila dok practise tu, kita practise di stadium Alor Setar, dan yang ada sama berlatih untuk hari merdeka ialah budak-budak sekolah Sultan Abdul Hamid . Ish, masa tu lah nak tengok dan beramah mesra dengan pelajar-pelajar lelaki. Selalunya dok selisih basikal saja. Dan jeling-jeling dari jauh.

Selepas tu pulak, dapatlah tiket percuma masing-masing untuk pergi tengok wayang. Entah, dah lupa dah gambar apa. Tapi seronoklah tak terhingga sebab dapat tengok wayang dengan kawan-kawan sekolah. Bukan senang nak dapat peluang begini.

Masa kecik-kecik pulak, Kak Teh ingat juga, kena berbaris di tepi jalan, untuk mengibar bendera kecik bila Sultan lalu. Aduh, panasnyaaaaa. Tunggu dah berjam. Kita pun kibarlah bendera. Kalau nasib baik Sultan dan Sultanah nampak dan lambai balik. Kalau tidak penat saja menunggu. Bekal air sirap dalam Tupperware yang dibungkus dengan tuala kecik tak boleh tinggal. Maklumlah panas.

Tapi yang paling Kak Teh ingat sekali dan kekal dalam ingatan sampai hari ni ialah Bulan Bahasa Kebangsaan. Masa tu, setiap negeri akan adakan Bulan Bahasa. Setiap sekolah anjurkan pertandingan syarahan dan juga berbahas – dalam bahasa Melayu. Dalam keluarga Kak Teh, yang pakarnya dalam hal-hal ni ialah Kak Cik. Wah, tera dia tu. Bersemangat kalau dia bersyarah. Setiap kali dia bersyarah, menang pulak tu! Sampailah ke peringkat negeri. Mai peringkat negeri – tak berjaya. Tapi tak apalah, banyak juga piala yang dikutip sepanjang masa. Sekarang ni dah anak tiga, cucu dua, dia dok bersyarah sorang-sorang kat rumah dia di Bangi. Bila Kak Teh balik Malaysia, dia ambik peluang untuk bersyarah kat Kak Teh. ‘Listen…’ ha tu pembukaan dia.

Kak Teh ingat dulu, ikut dia untuk pertandingan syarahan, sampai accident tengah jalan. Lori langgar basikal Kak Teh dari belakang dan basikal Kak Teh pulak langgar basikal Kak Cik. Jatuh gedebuk dua –dua beradik tengah jalan. Bila bawak pi hospital malu tersipu-sipu sebab punggung Kak Teh yang luka – doctor pulak muda dan hemsem! Ish, nasib baik tak jumpa lagi selepas tu. Tapi mungkin dia tak kenal muka kan, sebab dia periksa tempat lain.

Ish, Kak Cik masa tu – hebat dia. Bila dia bersyarah, orang tercengang sebab dia memang ada karisma. Kalau jual ubat laku. Orang akan beli sebab takut. Dah tu, dia dulu rambut ala Anneke Gronloh , macam sarang tebuan tu. Kak Teh ni, boleh kata tumpang sekaki sajalah.. Tumpang glamour – cakap tak pandai, berbahas tak pandai. Main sukan pun memang lumpork saja.

Tapi ni yang Kak Teh rasa kita patut pulihkan semula…adakan Bulan Bahasa .Bahasa menunjukkan bangsa. Pulihkan semula cara kita berpidato, cara penyampaian kita untuk bercakap dengan penuh yakin. Sampai sekarang pun kalau Kak Cik kata kat Kak Teh merah tu hijau, Kak Teh percaya dia.

Tak apalah, Kak Teh dah merapu lama dah ni. Orang sekeliling dok buat dissertation tapi oleh kerana Kak Teh pun dah komited untuk berbelog dalam bahasa Melayu, Kak Teh usahakan juga. Buat muka serious macam dok piker tentang argument untuk essay! Tapi orang ingat Kak Teh serious buat dissertation.

BAHASA JIWA BANGSA – SELAMAT BERBELOG!!

Life's Like That , eh Lydia?

It has been a while and I really need to come up for some fresh air. And how refreshing it is to be surfing and reading blogs instead of squinting my eyes at the syair and willing it to turn into a 10,000 word dissertation. So, I am back – briefly – because I’d like to welcome a new blogger - one who needs no introduction in the Malaysian media world. She is no stranger here as a reader but now she is actively blogging.

So, please join me in welcoming Lydia Teh, an accomplished writer and author. Last year, at this time I was in Malaysia and was looking at books at MPH to bring back when I saw her book – Life’s Like That and immediately bought it. A few years ago I brought back Malaysian Flavours by Lee Su Kim. These are the kind of books I love reading. Very often we take for granted our Malaysian way of life and when we are thousands of miles away, we yearn to hear the unique Manglish that is such a reflection of our soceity, our habits and taboos and culture that can only be Malaysian and none other. I used to love reading Adibah Amin’s As I was Passing and Lee Su Kim and Lydia Teh do remind me of that style of writing.

I find that these books are also useful in briefings to expats going to work and live in Malaysia. Lydia in Life’s Like That brings us scenes from Malaysian life that we have taken so much for granted and yet instantly recognise ourselves, the minute we read them in print. Lydia has also written a guidebook on how to maximise your chances of winning competitions. This, I must get before trying to get a place in ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire’.

I don’t know whether we are related in anyway – you know – coming from the same Teh clan..he he, but we’ve hit it off so far...emailing and smsing. Yes, I know I owe you some replies to your emails, Lydia. And thanks for the comforting words in the last one.

So, from Kak Teh to Lydia Teh – Welcome to Bloggers’ World! You’ll be a hit!

The Big D

'tis the reason why


Menyusun jari meminta ampun,
mengundurkan diri Kak Teh memohon,
tugas mendesak hari dah singkat
akan kembali bila dah tamat.

Dear all,
As much as I'd like to stay on and merapu, I really need this intermission to finish some urgent work. Have fun, wish me luck and I will resurface once in a while for some fresh air.

Thank you all for making a very blur Mak Cik happy!

Thank you for the wishes and doa's and thank you to my fellow researchers.

My wonderful fellow researchers


Yaaaaawnnn! 

Syaer Sang Spammer

Tersebut kisah makhluk sang spammer
merayau masuk ke blog sume
tak kira sapa spam saja
nak jual barang nak promote apa?

Entri syaer ku banyak dah kena
dan kawan-kawan juga di sini sana
kami tak perlu viagra dan pill apa-apa
semuanya segar bugar sehat belaka.

Wahai Sang Spammer yang baik budi
tak ada kerja kah sehari-hari
Kak Teh dok delete dah sakit jari
pi lah buat blog sendiri.

Blog Kak Teh janganlah kacau,
kalau dikacau malam-malam mericau,
Jadi, sebelum kita jadi musuh
tolonglah – pergi main jauh-jauh!

Kalau tak juga reti bahasa,
nanti siang tak lena malam jaga,
OOD kuhantar pasti menangis,
baru lu cai makan tak habis!

Syaer Sang Isteri...[1]

Tersebutlah kisah seorang isteri,
pilu dan rawan setiap hari,
resah dan gundah tiada terperi,
dilanda rindu menggigit jari.

Dua hari sudah berlalu,
makan minum tiadalah lalu,
sesuap dua berhenti selalu,
teringatkan kasih hatiku pilu.

Pergimu itu tiada ku tahan,
dua purnama amatlah perlahan
masa berlalu menjadi dugaan,
pesananmu tiada jadi alpaan.

Sebelum kekasih pergi melayang
pesannya satu tiadalahlah kurang:
‘Tinggallah intan tinggallah sayang,
anak dan kucing berilah makang.’ (Treng.sp)

Pergilah kasih pergilah sayang,
lambaianmu masih lagi terbayang,
tiadalah lagi senda gurauan,
untuk penawar hati yang rawan.

Bisik dan janji akan kukenang,
air mata berlinang-linang
membilang hari sampai kau pulang,
tiadalah lagi hati kepalang.

Jaga diri baik-baik Tabby!

A Day at Sandhurst with Officers and Gentlemen

My earliest memory of a British soldier is one so tall that his head was touching our ceiling. But of course, it could be because I was small and short at that time, a mere toddler, (with bedak sejuk plastered on my face), that he would carry on his shoulders.

He came to the house with Pak Lang who was on leave from duties in Hong Kong. Beside him, Pak Lang looked like a midget. But he was such a gentleman, I remember that so well, because he never sort of dismissed me as a child only to be seen and not heard. I remember the black and white photograph of this officer with my Pak Lang – already yellowing at the edges.

But of course he was a gentleman. He was from Sandhurst – the Royal Military Academy – an academy that provides ‘education for gentlemen’.

The past few days, I have been mingling with such officers and gentlemen, who stood to attention when speaking to you and called you ‘maam’. And gosh, the officers do look so much younger these days and you wonder how you can trust them to defend the country.


It has been a hectic few days as the Malaysian monarch is here and what is significant about his visit is that for this year’s passing out parade, our King was given the honour by Queen Elizabeth, to represent her as Reviewing Officer at the Sovereign’s Parade. This is such an honour – there’s only a handful of other monarchs being given such honour.


Anyway, so there I was at the Royal Military College yesterday on a warm summer’s day. The weather, I was told by a young cadet, was just ideal for those on parade. Just the day before, seven passed out in the heat.

Watching the Sovereign’s Parade, so full of pomp and ceremony, so steep in tradition, brought memories of marching in step with the band, flooding back. I was in the school band and I tell you doing the slow march with the drum strapped to your body, while concentrating on how to do the drum roll at same time is not easy. I have never been much of a coordinated person, but I lasted just a year. I think I did better marching with the angklung – not the whole ensemble but just the one with the E note.

Malaysian flag over Salisbury Plains
Anyway, the sound of Negaraku, our national anthem being played in an institution so British, brought tears to my eyes. It had the same effect on me when i saw the Malaysian flag flying over Salisbury Plain the day before when I trooped along with the King’s entourage to a military site in Larkhill.

And yesterday, Malaysia’s 303rd cadet to graduate from Sandhurst was so chuffed that his Reviewing Officer was none other than his own King.
It really made his day. Malaysia started sending military officers for training at Sandhurst since 1950 and our very own King spent two years there from 1964 – 65. As His Majesty was telling us, (Ceeewah!!) as we relaxed on the balcony at Queen Building in Larkhill, after lunch of rice and vegetable curry, watching the cattles grazing in the rolling fields, he truly enjoyed the training offered by Sandhusrt. He had the opportunity to do military exercises in Libya as well as Normandy and experienced walking days and nights in the desert.

The King & I 
It was indeed a rare opportunity, to have the Monarch speaking so freely to us humble journalists, but we were truly honoured and I swear he must have waved at me from his helicopter as it circled above us before flying away.

Back to yesterday’s ceremony, I was so pleased to have this once in a life time opportunity to be there and witness such a grand occassion. It was almost like Ascot ..but for the military. The women were in really fine clothes and beautiful hats, while the men looked so elegant in their military uniforms with medals and swords. So, so handsome and smart. Our own officers were there in the crowd with their wives and you see an interesting assortments of colourful tudungs, with interesting looking hats and songkoks.

On arrival, (the security was of course very tight), we were greeted with 'Selamat pagi', by a Gurkha soldier. Aaaah, of course, I remember them. And when the King and Queen arrived, they lined the route to the pavilion where the Royal couple were sitting.

Excuse me, are you from Malaya? 
Then, as I took my seat, an elegant lady asked me, “Are you from Malaya?”, “Yes, I am from Malaysia”, I said, correcting her. She was so pleased as our presence there and the King’s made it so much more memorable for her as her grandson, the handsome chap on the white horse was commanding the parade that day.
Also, she said, she treasures so many happy memories of Malaya, where they lived for several years when her husband was the State Secretary of Penang. Her son grew up there.

Oh, there’s so much to tell, but I will let the pictures tell the rest of the story.

The Queen's 'Malay' Guard
But one last thing. As we were having our drinks in the building after the parade, we were joined by another dashing, young officer . “Hi, saya orang Melayu,” he said, not quite convincing me. Its true, he insisted, and proceeded to tell me that he was born in Jalan Imbi. His father is English and his mother, a Malay. However, he has joined the British Army and next week, this Malay officer will start his first duty, guarding the Queen of England!
Sandhurst 

Wartime stories - with the War Veterans

Its 9th August - Singapore Independence Day! And its time I dust my shelves and take out old files and albums again.
Three years ago, I attended a gathering of war veterans at the Imperial War Memorial Museum in South London where ex war prisoners met up to remember the 60th anniversary of the fall of Singapore into the hands of the Japanese on 15th February, a day that Winston Churchill described as the greatest disaster in British history. Here was what I wrote then...

"It was a cold bleak day in February when more than 100 Far Eastern PoWs and civilian internees met at this reunion, to yet again relive the experiences of working in labour camps and the notorious Death Railway and to remember their friends and relatives who did not make it home. It must have been a darker day in February 60 years ago for the Singaporeans then as well as the Allied soldiers.


Many were accompanied by their children and grandchildren and it was not difficult to spot the veterans. These British war veterans, who had served in Malaya and Singapore, came with their medals, walking sticks and in their wheelchairs and the painful, bitter memories of their embittered years as prisoners of war.

One even came with a painting of a harrowing image that still haunts his days and nights, but putting it on canvas has helped him to cope. Besides their impressive array of medals and name tags, they had colour-coded dots to help us identify them. Those with red dots, and there were quite a few of them, were prisoners of war. Green-dot bearers were civilian internees while those with blue dots were those who managed to escape and the ones with black dots were child evacuees.

But there was one distinguished-looking man whose surname could not have made it very easy for him to turn up and mingle with the rest. He was Brigadier James Percival, son of Lt-General Arthur Percival who was in command of the Allied Forces during the war. He was also the one who surrendered the supposedly-impregnable fortress of Singapore to the Japanese, which to Churchill was "a grievious and shameful blow to British prestige." The fall of Singapore did have dire consequences for the thousands of men, women and children who were forced to work in terrible conditions. Many did not survive. A few came to tell their stories again.

For the junior Percival, who himself served in Malaya fighting the terrorists in the Fifties, criticisms levelled at his father were unfair.
"He never had any conscience about surrendering Singapore because he always felt that if we had not surrendered it, the civilian population would have been annihilated by the Japanese," Percival said of his father. Although his father never spoke about the surrender, he knew that his father was bitter till his death, as all the blame for the loss of Singapore was on his shoulders. "The reason we lost that particular campaign was one of resources and we as a country were very pressed in the Middle East (and) on the Russian front. We didn't have many tanks in Malaya or sufficient ships. "So that was the result. He didn't have enough to fight with. We didn't know very much about fighting in the jungle and the Japanese knew a lot about it. He was a very honourable person and with his upbringing, he kept a stiff upper lip," said the younger Percival.

General Percival and his troops remained as prisoners of war until the end of the Second World War. He died in 1966 at the age of 78.

Robert Brook was a mere child when he and his parents were thrown into Changi prison.
"As children, we were better treated by the Japanese. They were strict with education and insisted that we be given sterilised milk," he remembers.

But for others, there were no fond memories. Wing Commander Peter Kingwill, who was a flight lieutenant with the Royal Air Force and served in Kuantan during the Japanese landing in Kota Baru, spoke of the starvation and tropical diseases he had to endure. He worked on the Death Railway for three years after his plane was shot down in southern Thailand. Not many escaped but one did and lives to tell the story. Roy Pagani, who was a corporal with the Reconnaissance Regiment, stained his skin with burnt rice and walked barefooted for 400km wearing a lungyi.

"What can I say; we were slaves on that railway track and many people died carrying the sleepers. So I had to escape."

Escape was not the end of the story, for it was only the beginning of nightmares for some.How does one cope with the trauma that haunts every waking hour only to turn into nightmares at night? Ronald Delavigne, who was imprisoned in Japan exorcised his nightmares onto canvasses. What he showed us was harrowing, what he experienced was worse. "The older I get, I become more intolerant of people who complain about being hungry, cold and wet. I think to myself, they don't know what it means to be hungry, cold or wet. But I am glad they didn't know," Delavigne says. Bitter as he is, he cannot hate his captors. He told a story about a Japanese worker, who gave him tobacco at the risk of losing his own head. The Japanese worker also helped him with his digging chores as Delavigne had broken his leg. On the day of his departure, he met the old man again and was invited into his house.

"He gave his tobacco pipe as a memento. He helped me," he sobbed. "So how can I say I hate all Japanese?"

The people in that room that day share a lot together. They appreciate solidarity, friendship and human kindness although it can be difficult for them to explain to those who never went through their ordeal. "

But pls continue sharing your stories in the entry below - ones that you hear from your parents or grandparents.

Wartime stories with Pak

It was usually late at night and this was before we bought TV from Rashid’s little shop down the road. We’d sit at his feet, breathing in the aroma from his pipe - that Curve Cut tobacco which to this day, reminds me of Pak.

Of course we had heard it so many times before, but it was nice to hear Pak talking about his youth, about the brush with the Japanese, the kinship with the British soldiers and about the not so wonderful years eating ubi kayu during the Japanese Occupation. It got better and more interesting when joined by arwah Pak Teh Ei(Ismail), huffing and puffing his cigar, with more beautiful and jaw dropping war time stories, complete with dialogues in Japanese and sound effects.


Pak was a young clerk at the land office then. Tall, fair and handsome and I imagine he cut quite a figure walking through the village collecting ‘hasil pintu’ from house to house.
And when he wasn’t doing that, he’d be playing his violin. Somehow this reminded me of Isa in Mochtar Lubis’ "Road with no End" - anotehr wartime novel. But I think, my Pak was better than that. He played his violin, while Isa let Hazil play his.

Anyway, back to the violin. It was the violin and the way he played it that put him in the good books of the Japanese. Very cultured people, the Japanese and I suppose, after all the hard work barking orders at people, they needed to let their hair down. And of course after all those other ‘strenuous’ work dealing with any form of oppositions or opponents, they needed some entertainment.

We were like ‘wow’ and imagined Pak on his not-Harley Davidson with the violin carelessly slung over his shoulders and Panama hat at a certain tilt on his head, certain to have broken not a few hearts, making his way to the cafe where he played. He was always in suits – white suit, complete with a handkerchief, neatly pressed and perfumed, tucked in his top pocket.

I often wonder what he played to entertain the Japanese. Never thought of asking. But I suppose if the Japanese soldiers said 'Play' – you play, whatever came to mind, if not no place for Panama to rest on. So, in a way, my parents who by then had one child, were quite fortunate to escape the wrath of the occupying troops. Mak said, because Pak was so fair and almost reddish in complexion, the soldiers would come and hug and sniff him first, to see whether he smelt British.

There were many other horror stories about the atrocities. And we would listen mouth wide open and knees shaking not quite believing that the Japanese were capable of that, until I watched some of their daring fear factor kind of programmes. But you see, those were war time situation. What excuse now for those test your endurance kind of programme?

And he’d sing us a Japanese song – a compulsory one for all to learn and sing in the presence of Japanese soldiers. I once sang that to a Japanese friend and she shuddered! We heard too about those Japanese currency - often referred to as 'duit pokok pisang' - which became quite worthless towards the end of the war. And very, very often when we didnt finish our rice, Mak used to remind us the days when they had to survive on tapioca and nothing else. That did the trick.

Pak also told of one lucky escape by a British soldier who was running away from his captors. Risking his own life and that of our family, he hid the soldier in the house, and Mak put the young soldier's uniform in the tub of water under the house. For that he should be given the Purple heart, no?

Oh, well, quite recently, I chanced upon a book by Adibah Amin - 'Tempat Jatuh Lagi Dikenang', a beautiful war time story as told by a five year old girl. It was funny, informative and well-written, Kak Adib style , of course. And that too brought me back to the days of sitting by Pak's feet in the front room, listening to his wartime stories, breathing in the aroma of Curve Cut tobacco from his pipe.

Remembering Hiroshima

The deadly mushroom

I was deep into the intrigues and romance of an eighteenth century Malay syaer when I was called upon to participate in a ceremony in a building next door. At 0815 on 6^th of August 1945, just as the people of Hiroshima were starting their morning, the then newly created weapon of mass destruction, the atomic bomb, was dropped on the city by a US plane, ensuring that for at least 140,000 people, they never got to see another tomorrow. Thousands more suffered the after effects either physically or mentally. Many still carry the scars and one of them was Dr Sato of Three Wheels, who conducted the solemn ceremony at the Japanese Garden of the Brunei Gallery yesterday.

No more Hiroshima

60 years on

With 9/11,7/7, 21/7, Hiroshima seems a million years ago and so, so far away from what’s happening on my doorsteps, so I am very grateful to fellow blogger Lacrema for inviting me to this simple yet beautiful ceremony – lest we forget.

solemn ceremony

With the wailing of sirens in the background, Dr Sato, who was only 5 when it happened, urged that there should never be a repeat of Hiroshima and lets not forget, Nagasaki. He remembers a lost uncle, a grandmother and many more. Many Japanese who were present yesterday must know of someone who perished or suffered or continue to suffer.

lacrema

Lacrema, a member of the Shino Arisawa group, played traditional Japanese music to mark the occassion.
Indeed, here in the UK, ceremonies to remember the victims were held everywhere.
Whatever the politics, let’s take a minute to remember the innocent ones.

the group