Nanjing Sorrow: December in Hell by Imagine 21

by Ray Matsumoto 

Nanjing Sorrow: December in Hell by Imagine 21 stands out from other accounts of the Nanjing Massacre. Although some may question why two Japanese playwrights created such a production, their intentions are pure and genuine. This is evident from the first scene of Act 1, or what Yoshiji Watanabe calls the "confession." Watanabe recounts stories from childhood and adulthood that inspired him to create his theater group. These include his experience growing up with an abusive war criminal father to his first visit to China when he was 44 years old, and they serve as the foundation of the entire production. During my interview with Imagine 21 in Tokyo, they revealed that many of their audience members are surprised to learn that the performance is from the perspective of the sinner, not just a retelling of facts. Nanjing Sorrow explores themes of guilt, repentance, and sin, offering a personal perspective that goes beyond the typical themes of war. As time passes, works like Nanjing Sorrow become increasingly important in preserving the history of Japanese atrocities. As Imagine 21 reaches its 32nd year, it is vital to appreciate the art and sacrifice of people like Yoshiji Watanabe and Kazuko Yokoi, especially while they are still active.

Here is a translated version of the preface written by Yoshiji Watanabe and Kazuko Yokoi. The original Japanese version is also available at the end of the article.


Confession and Repentance (2007)
by Yoshiji Watanabe


- This play is centered on the Nanjing Massacre. -


In 2001, my wife and I visited Nanjing for the first time. While standing at the site of the massacre next to the Yangtze River, I thought of the Chinese people who were killed. As I held my hands together, my eyes suddenly turned red, the color of blood. I also experienced a severe headache unlike any I had felt before. Then, I heard a voice that seemed to come from the depths of the earth. It was an intense moan. Hearing this voice, I thought to myself: these were the souls of the victims in the Yangtze River, drifting, wandering, and unable to die properly. At that moment, I promised myself that I would confront and face the events of the Nanking Massacre. 
I was born in 1947 and have no direct experience of war. However, my family continued to live in the battlefields of a never-ending aggressive war, tormented by the guilt of perpetrating it. 
In 1934, my father volunteered to become an officer of Manchukuo, a Japanese puppet state that played the role of an aggressor during the war. As an officer, he captured and killed Chinese locals suspected of being anti-Japanese. After the war, he was tried as a Class C war criminal, but by that time, he had already escaped Manchuria and returned to Japan ahead of the Japanese farmers, peasants, and settlers.
Ever since I was young, my father would wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares, and every time I saw it happen, my heart and body would freeze, and I would be overcome with anxiety and an inexpressible sense of longing and dread.
The love between my parents no longer existed. My father began yelling and beating my mother severely. When my father fell asleep, my mother often, while crying, said to me, "I want to leave your father." Eventually, my mother began saying, "I am an animal. I will become an animal," every time my father struck her. She became clinically depressed, and when I was 37 years old (the year following my father's death), she committed suicide by hanging herself in our house, where she was living alone at the time. When I found out about her death, I started thinking to myself, "Our family has committed a great sin, and because of that sin, we will never be happy. Or rather, we have no right to find happiness, and one day I will pay for the sin." I have been constantly haunted by this thought ever since.
In 1991, after the deaths of my father and mother, my wife and I visited the northeastern region of China, formerly known as Manchuria. While in Changchun, I saw a photograph that changed our lives. It was a picture of a Japanese officer holding a military sword and smiling, with the severed heads of young Chinese men at his feet. The expressions of anger, sadness, fear, and pain on their faces looked as if they were about to jump out of the picture and choke me. It magnified the cruelty and ruthlessness of my father's crimes. It suddenly dawned on me that the postwar life of my family was built on the pain and sorrow of these Chinese victims. They would appear and disappear throughout my life and grip our hearts, never letting go.
The Nanking Massacre was the culmination of Japan's aggression against China and Asia and a violation of humanity committed by each and every Japanese person in the horrific form of the "Japanese devil" (Riben Guizi).
I have come to believe that the meaning of my life is to confront and live with my sins for the rest of my days. This play represents our confession and repentance. I am a sinner, and how will I ever make amends for my transgressions?




What is a permitted/allowed/forgiven/excusable "life"...!? (2005)
by Kazuko Yokoi (Watanabe)


In 1999, I read a book titled The Diary of Minnie Vautrin (translated by Ryonosuke Okada and Yoko Ihara with commentary by Tokushi Kasahara). The book is a collection of diary entries by Minnie Vautrin, an American missionary who protected Chinese women from rape and murder by Japanese soldiers during the Nanjing Massacre. Ms. Vautrin eventually committed suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning.
The topic of the Nanking Massacre has long been taboo in Japan. However, the issue has stuck in my mind, and I have dreamed of creating a play about it. Yet, I could not find a way to express such a massacre, which is full of facts that make one look away in horror. Sadly, the world is already laughing at Japan's claim that "there was no massacre," whether they know it or not. Books on this subject are shamelessly piled up for sale in famous bookstores. When I think of this, I become too disheartened to take action and feel only sadness.
In 2005, we commemorated the 60th anniversary of Japan's defeat in World War II. After our first trip to the northeastern region of China, we decided to stop performing Reunion, a play centered on the zanryu fujin (women abandoned in Manchuria following Japan's surrender)—a confession of Japan's aggressive war crimes—after 13 years. 
During our 1995 performance in Northeastern China (former Manchuria), a zanryu fujin survivor, who had already decided to become a permanent Chinese resident, urged us to "Please let everyone in Japan know about this." From then on, we made it our mission to maintain that promise and toured every prefecture in the country. However, in two years, it will be the 70th anniversary of the Nanking Massacre...
Nobody in Japan, whether in theater or film, would be able to express this theme from the perpetrator's perspective. I began to feel impatient. There was no use in wondering if one had the influence and power to make a difference. Someone had to send the message to the world.
I began writing immediately after our final performance of Reunion in Tokyo. The first draft was completed in March 2006. Around that time, my mother passed away. It was seven days after her death that I felt relieved the first draft was finally ready. While skimming a book I had been reading about the Nanjing Massacre and looking at photos of the massacre site, I read the small descriptions next to them. It was the regiment where my father had been doing business during the war. I had seen these pictures several times while reading the book, but this was the first time I read the accompanying text.
From that day on, the taboo of the Nanking Massacre had disappeared from me. I wonder if my father knew about this. I even started hearing his voice.
"Kazuko, it's your father…"
"Father!?"
I was filled with joy... "But my father is dead." 
"Kazuko, your mother…" 
That was the last thing he said as his voice trailed off. Then, my old mother, lying on the hospital bed with desperate and vacant eyes, looked at me. I said, "Mom! What's wrong? What happened?" and hugged her. Then, contentedly, my mother's soul ascended, slipping out of my arms, and disappeared. 
This was actually a dream, but it left me with a sense of reality. It was as if my mother and father were saying to each other, "Kazuko, do you understand? You must think about it as if you were a victim until you lose your mind. And Kazuko, you must remember this forever." Maybe it was my mother, before her soul reached heaven, before she went to the other world, to the Pure Land, who appeared to me in my dream in the form of the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara (Guanyin). Even though it was just a dream, I was completely shocked. The miserable appearance of my mother will never fade from my mind.
I often reflect on how much my mother's love and strength supported me. I also recall my father's words, "Kazuko, your mother…" and the shock and sorrow he felt as he spoke them. Although he passed away peacefully, I like to believe that he has learned about the sin of being a businessman and aiding the aggressors in the afterlife.
I was born to my family after the war. I lived my life ignorant of the crimes committed by the Japanese and the crimes committed by my father. It was only later that I realized this was why I was able to live a "forgiven life."


Nanjing Sorrow: December in Hell by Imagine 21 | -哀しみの南京- 地獄のDecember (12月) [ENG CC]


告白と懺悔 （2007）
渡辺義治


この作品は、「南京大殺」をテーマとしています。


二〇〇一年、私と妻は、初めて、「南京」に行きました。 長江の虐殺現場に立ち、殺された中国の方々を思い、手を合わせていた時、突然、目の中が真っ赤になりました。 それは血の色でした。そして、今まで経験したことのない、頭痛に襲われました。 そして、地の底から、わき上がってくるような声を聞いたのです。唸るような呻き声でした。
 その声を聞いて、私は思いました。 長江で殺された方々は、死に切れないまま、その魂が、彷徨い、流離っている。
 その時、私は心に決めました。南京大虐殺と向き合うことを。
 私は、一九四七年（昭和二二年）生まれで、直接の戦争体験は有りません。
 しかし、我が家は戦後もずっと、終らせられない、侵略戦争の戦場を生き、加害の罪に、苛まれる生活の日々を送ってきていたと思うのです。
 父は、一九三四年（昭和九年）、自ら志願して、侵略国家「満州国」の軍人になり、各地を転載しながら、"反満抗日"の中国人を捕え、殺していました。そして、その罪は戦後、C級戦犯として、GHQに裁かれました。 
 そして、敗戦後には、一早く、日本に逃げ帰っています。
 その父は、私が小さい頃から、夜中、突然、うなされ、呻き声を上げて飛び起きるのです。
 父のその姿を見る度に、私の心は凍りつき、身体が固まり、言いしれぬ、怖れと脅えの気持で、不安になるのです。
 父と母の仲は、冷え切り、父が、突然、怒鳴って、母を激しく殴るのです。母は、よく、夜、父が寝ると、私を前にしくしく泣きながら、「お父ちゃまと別れたい」と嘆いていました。
 そして、やがて母は、父の暴力を受ける度に、「自分は動物だ、動物になる」と言いだし、躁うつ病になり、私が三七歳の時、（父が亡くなったあと、一年後) 一人きりで住んでいた私の実家で、首をつって自殺しました。
 私の心にいつしか、「私たち家族は、何か大きな罪を犯している。そして、その罪のために、決して幸せになれない。いや幸せにはなってはならない、大きな罪がある。いつか必ずその罪の報いを受ける時がくる。」という思いにつきまとわれるようになりました。
 一九九一年、父と母がなくなってから初めて、私と妻は、中国東北部 「旧満州」に行きました。
 長春で、見た一枚の写真。その写真が私たちのその後の人生を決めました。
 日本人将校が、軍刀を持って笑っている。その足元に、中国人青年の "生首" "さらし首" が…。その方々の殺された時の無念、怒り、悲しみ、怖れ、苦痛、その表情が、私の首に飛びついてしめようとばかりに迫って来た。
 父の犯した罪の残酷さ、非情さが、重なった。
 そして、私の心に、ストーンと、落ちた。
 私たち家族の戦後の生活の日々は、この中国の殺された方々の、苦痛、怨み、憤怒、哀しみに覆われた日々だったのだと。その人々が、私の生活の日々に、現われては消えて、私たちの心をつかんで、離さなかったのだ。
 「南京大虐殺」は、日本人、一人ひとりが犯した、中国、アジアへの侵略と人間性の蹂躙の頂点に立ち、日本鬼子のすざましい形相がそこにある。
 私は、全生涯をかけて、わが罪と向き合い、生きてゆくことこそが、私の生の意味だと思うようになりました。
この作品は、そんな、私と妻の告白と懺悔なのです。
「罪人の私」「その罪をどう償うのか」


ー地獄こそ我がすみ家ー




許されている「生」とは…?! （2005）
横井量子


一九九九年、私は一冊の本を読みました。「ミニー・ヴォートリンの日記」（岡田良之助/伊原陽子＝訳・笠原十九司＝解説）という本です。
 「南京大虐殺」の最中、命を投げ出して、日本兵のレイプ、殺人から、中国人の婦女子を守る為に闘い、その為に心の病を患い、ガス自殺を遂げたアメリカ人宣教師、ミニー・ヴォートリンさんが残した日記の本でした。
 この時から「南京大虐殺」という日本のタブーの一つである、このテーマが頭にこびりつき、いつの日か舞台化したいと思い続けた…が、この膨大なスケールの…目をそむける様な事実ばかりの虐殺など表現方法も思いつかない…。
 すでに「虐殺はなかった!!…」などと騒ぎたて、世界の笑いものになっている事すら、わかっているのか、いないのか…恥ずかしげもなく有名書店で山積みになって売っている…。
 それを考えると、踏み出す勇気もなく、ただ心を痛めるだけであった。
 そして、二〇〇五年、敗戦六〇周年を迎えた…。夫と共に初めて中国東北部へ行ってから、私達は「再会」という中国残留婦人をテーマにし、日本の戦争の加害の罪を告白していた舞台を一三年、かけて幕を閉じることにした。一九九五年 「敗戦五〇周年」の年に中国東北部（旧、偽、満州）での中国公演の際、すでに中国の地で永住すると決意された一人の中国残留婦人の方が「日本中の人に、このことを知らせて下さい」と言われ、必死に全県下をまわり、その約束がとりあえず、はたせた思いからであった。
 けれど、又、二年後には「南京大虐殺」の七〇周年を迎える…‼
 この日本の中で、どう考えても、演劇でも、映画でも…加害者の側から、このテーマを表現する人はいないだろう…と、思われた。力があるとか、ないとか、言っても始まらない…誰かが、その年には世界へ発信しなくては…と、あせり始めた。
 「再会」の最終公演（敗戦六〇周年）を東京で終え、すぐに準備に入った。 そして初稿が出来上がったのが、二〇〇六年の三月であった。その頃、母が亡くなった。亡くなって「初七日」がすぎた日…。
 「第一稿が、やっと出来た」と、安堵し、読みこんでいた本のページをめくって、いつも見ていた、「虐殺現場」の写真を、その日も見ていた…そして、その説明書きの小さな文字の中に、なんと、父が戦時中、商いをしていた連隊の名を発見した!!。
 その日から、私にとって「南京大虐殺」というタブーは、吹き飛んでしまった。 父は、この事を知っていたのだろうか…?。 そして、とうとう、父の声…あの、なつかしい父の声…!!。「量子、お父ちゃんやで…」「お父ちゃん!!」、喜びで一杯になった…「けど、お父ちゃんは亡くなっているのに…」「量子、お母ちゃんが…」と、言ったまま、父の声が跡切れた…。すると、老いた母が、病院のベッドで…絶望的な、虚ろな目で…私を見た、「お母ちゃん!! どうしたの?‼、何があったの?‼」と…私は、 あるったけの思いで母を抱きしめた…すると、母は満足した様にスーと、私の手の中から、魂が上にぬけていなくなった…。
 これは、やけに現実感が残った、実は…夢でした。
 それは、まるで、父と母が、このテーマの作品化をする為に「量子、わかったかい?。犯された身になって、狂いそうなくらいの身になって考えなさい…量子、この事を肝に命じなさい」…と、母の魂が、天に、あの世に、浄土へ、ゆく前に最後、母が観音菩薩となって、そんな姿に変わりはて、夢に出てきてくれたのでは…。夢とはいえ…その時の私の衝撃…‼ あの母の惨い残像は私の心から消えて、なくなることがない…。
 母の愛のすごさ、力の強さが…どれだけ私の支えと、なってくれていたか…と、思う。そして、又、父が 「量子、お母ちゃんが…」という言葉にこめられた…父の受けたショックと哀しみ…それは、父は、幸せに亡くなった後、父は、やはり父の商売の加害の罪を…あの世で学んでくれていたのだ…と、私は思う…。
 「そう、思いたい」。
 そんな父と母から生まれた私は、戦後、日本の加害の罪、父の罪を見ることなく生きてこれた…ことで、許されていた「生」であった…と、初めて気がついた。