Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes (3 page)

And it did. Her appetite came back and much of the pain went away. Dr. Numata was pleased with her progress and told Sadako she could go home for a visit. That night Sadako was so excited she couldn’t sleep. To keep the magic working she made more cranes.

Six hundred and twenty-one.

Six hundred and twenty-two…

It was wonderful to be home with the family for O Bon, the biggest holiday of the year. O Bon was a special celebration for spirits of the dead who returned to visit those they had loved on earth.

Mrs. Sasaki and Mitsue had scrubbed and swept the house until it shone. Fresh flowers brightened the table. Sadako’s golden crane and Kokeshi doll were there, too. The air was filled with smells of delicious holiday food. Dishes of bean cakes and rice balls had been placed on the altar shelf for ghostly visitors.

That night Sadako watched her mother put a lantern outside so that the spirits could find their way in the dark. She let out a happy sigh. Perhaps, just perhaps, she was home to stay.

For several days a steady stream of friends and relatives come to call on the Sasaki family. By the end of a week Sadako was pale and tired again. She could only sit quietly and watch the others.

“Sadako certainly has good manners now,” Mr. Sasaki said. “Oba chan’s spirit must be pleased to see how ladylike her granddaughter has be come.”

“How can you say that!” Mrs. Sasaki cried. “I would rather have our lively Sadako back.” She dabbed at her eyes and hurried into the kitchen.

I’m making everyone sad, Sadako thought. She wished she could suddenly turn into her old self. How happy her mother would be then!

As if he knew what was in Sadako’s mind, her father said gruffly, “There now, don’t worry. After a good night’s rest you’ll feel fine.”

But the next day Sadako had to return to the hospital. For the first time she was glad to be in the quiet hospital room. Her parents sat beside the bed for a long time. Every now and then Sadako drifted off into a strange kind of half-sleep.

“When I die,” she said dreamily, “will you put my favorite bean cakes on the altar for my spirit?”

Mrs. Sasaki could not speak. She took her daughter’s hand and held it tightly.

“Hush!” Mr. Sasaki said in a funny voice. “That will not happen for many, many years. Don’t give up now, Sadako chan. You have to make only a few hundred more cranes.”

Nurse Yasunaga gave Sadako medicine that helped her rest. Before her eyes closed, Sadako reached out to touch the golden crane.

“I will get better,” she murmured to the Kokeshi doll, “and someday I’ll race like the wind.”

From then on Dr. Numata gave Sadako blood transfusions or shots almost every day. “I know it hurts,” he said, “but we must keep on trying.”

Sadako nodded. She never complained about the shots and almost constant pain. A bigger pain was growing deep inside of her. It was the fear of dying. She had to fight it as well as the disease. The golden crane helped. It reminded Sadako that there was always hope.

Mrs. Sasaki spent more and more time at the hospital. Every afternoon Sadako listened for the familiar slap-slap of her plastic slippers in the hall. All visitors had to put on yellow slippers at the door, but Mrs. Sasaki’s made a special sound. Sadako’s heart ached to see her mother’s face so lined with worry.

The leaves on the maple tree were turning rust and gold when the family came for one last visit. Eiji handed Sadako a big box wrapped in gold paper and tied with a red ribbon. Slowly Sadako opened it. Inside was something her mother had always wanted for her—a silk kimono with cherry blossoms on it. Sadako felt hot tears blur her eyes.

“Why did you do it?” she asked, touching the soft cloth. “I’ll never be able to wear it and silk costs so much money.”

“Sadako chan,” her father said gently, “your mother stayed up late last night to finish sewing it. Try it on for her.”

With a great effort Sadako lifted herself out of bed. Mrs. Sasaki helped her put on the kimono and tie the sash. Sadako was glad her swollen legs didn’t show. Unsteadily she limped across the room and sat in her chair by the window. Everyone agreed that she was like a princess in the kimono.

At that moment Chizuko came in. Dr. Numata had given her permission to visit for a short time. She stared at Sadako in surprise. “You look better in that outfit than in school clothes,” she said.

Everyone laughed. Even Sadako. “Then I’ll wear it to classes every day when I’m well again,” she joked.

Mitsue and Eiji giggled at the idea.

For a little while it was almost like the good times they used to have at home. They played word games and sang Sadako’s favorite songs. Meanwhile, she sat stiffly in the chair, trying not to show the pain it caused her. But it was worth the pain. When her parents left, they looked almost cheerful.

Before she went to sleep, Sadako managed to fold only one paper crane.

Six hundred and forty-four…

It was the last one she ever made.

RACING WITH THE WIND

As Sadako grew weaker, she thought more about death. Would she live on a heavenly mountain? Did it hurt to die? Or was it like falling asleep?

If only I could forget about it, Sadako thought. But it was like trying to stop the rain from falling. As soon as she concentrated on something else, death crept back into her mind.

Toward the middle of October, Sadako lost track of days and nights. Once, when she was awake, she saw her mother crying.

“Don’t cry,” she begged. “Please don’t cry.” Sadako wanted to say more, but her mouth and tongue wouldn’t move. A tear slid down her cheek. She had brought her mother so much grief. And all Sadako could do now was make paper cranes and hope for a miracle.

She fumbled with a piece of paper. Her fingers were too clumsy to fold it.

I can’t even make a crane, she said to herself. I’ve turned into a real turtle! Quickly, quickly, Sadako tried with all her strength to fold the paper before she was swept into darkness.

It might have been minutes or hours later that Dr. Numata came in and felt Sadako’s forehead. He gently took the paper out of her hands. She barely heard him say, “It’s time to rest. You can make more birds tomorrow.”

Sadako gave a faint nod. Tomorrow… tomorrow seemed such a long, long way off.

The next time she awoke, the family was there. Sadako smiled at them. She was part of that warm, loving circle where she would always be. Nothing could ever change that.

Already lights were dancing behind her eyes. Sadako slid a thin, trembling hand over to touch the golden crane. Life was slipping away from her, but the crane made Sadako feel stronger inside.

She looked at her flock hanging from the ceiling. As she watched, a light autumn breeze made the birds rustle and sway. They seemed to be alive and flying out through the open window. How beautiful and free they were! Sadako sighed and closed her eyes.

She never woke up.

EPILOGUE:

SADAKO SASAKI died on October 25, 1955.

Her classmates folded 356 cranes so that 1,000 were buried with Sadako. In a way she got her wish. She will live on in the hearts of people for a long time.

After the funeral the bamboo class collected Sadako’s letters and her journal and published them in a book. They called it Kokeshi, after the doll they had given to Sadako while she was in the hospital. The book was sent around Japan and soon everyone knew about Sadako and her thousand paper cranes.

Sadako’s friends began to dream of building a monument to her and all children who were killed by the atom bomb. Young people throughout the country helped collect money for the project. Finally their dream came true. In 1958 the statue was unveiled in the Hiroshima Peace Park. There is Sadako, standing on top of a granite mountain of paradise. She is holding a golden crane in outstretched hands.

A Folded Crane Club was organized in her honor. Members still place thousands of paper cranes beneath Sadako’s statue on August 6—Peace Day. They make a wish, too. Their wish is engraved on the base of the statue:

This is our cry,

this is our prayer;

peace in the world.

MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR AND THIS BOOK:

ELEANOR COERR was born in Kamsack, Saskatchewan, Canada, and grew up in Saskatoon. Two of her favorite childhood hobbies were reading and making up stories.

Her fascination with Japan began when she received a book called Little Pictures of Japan one Christmas. It showed children in beautiful kimonos playing games, chasing butterflies, and catching crickets. She pored over the colored illustrations, dreaming of one day joining those children in Japan. Her best friend in high school was a Japanese girl whose family introduced her to brush painting, eating with chopsticks, and origami. Eleanor’s desire to visit that magical place never faded, and her well-thumbed copy of that favorite book is still in her library.

Eleanor began her professional life as a newspaper reporter and editor of a column for children. Luckily, she traveled to Japan in 1949 as a writer for the Ottawa Journal, since none of the other staff wanted to go to a country that had been devastated by war. To learn Japanese, Eleanor lived on a farm near Yonago for about one year, absorbing the culture and enjoying rural celebrations. Soon she was able to visit nearby schools and speak to young audiences about her country. Eleanor wrote and illustrated Circus Day in Japan, using the farm family and a visit to the circus as models. It was published in Tokyo in 1953.

Her most difficult trip while she was in Japan was to Hiroshima. Eleanor was shocked by the horrible destruction and death caused by one atom bomb. Of course, she did not know Sadako Sasaki at that time, although she was living there with her family. The misery and suffering Eleanor witnessed was burned into her mind, and she hoped future world leaders would avoid wars at all costs.

One beautiful day in 1963, Eleanor revisited Hiroshima and saw the statue of Sadako in the Hiroshima Peace Park. Impressed by the stories she heard about Sadako’s talent for running, courage when faced with cancer, and determination to fold one thousand paper cranes, Eleanor was inspired to find a copy of Kokeshi, Sadako’s autobiography.

Eleanor looked everywhere she could think of and asked all of her Japanese friends to help. Since the school had copied the ninety-four pages and stapled them together, most of the books had fallen apart. Years passed, and Eleanor continued writing for newspapers in various countries and wrote more children’s books. But she was always hoping to find Kokeshi.

One fateful afternoon, Eleanor was having tea with a missionary who had lived in Hiroshima all through the war.

“Eleanor,” she said, “you should write a biography of Sadako Sasaki for American children to read.”

“I would love to,” said Eleanor, “but I must have Kokeshi to get all the true facts about Sadako.”

The missionary took Eleanor to her attic. Lo and behold, at the bottom of an old trunk was an original copy of Kokeshi. Eleanor rushed to have it translated properly and began writing ‘Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes as soon as she could.

“It’s like magic. I was meant to write her story,” Eleanor said.

Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes has been translated into many languages and has moved both children and adults to write plays, perform ballets, compose songs, and collect money for peace statues—all celebrating Sadako and her wish for peace. Eleanor has visited schools all around the world, encouraging her audiences to work for a nonviolent world. Folded cranes are everywhere, and always underneath the statue of Sadako in Hiroshima’s Peace Park.

Eleanor receives many letters about the effect Sadako’s story has had on readers. A few are included on the next page.

Dear Author,

I learned that we dropped a bomb and people died. We also suffered in Pearl Harbor when the Japanese dropped a bomb there. I think Sadako is important because she did not want any more wars to hurt people.

Dear Eleanor Coerr,

My mother is dying of cancer. Her name is Mabel. Please know that she is bravely struggling to live, never complains, and is learning how to fold paper cranes like Sadako. Thank you for writing the Sadako book. It is helping my mother.

Dear Author,

I like your story about Sadako because even though she was sick, she never lost hope. She was steadfast. When I grow up I want to be a writer like you. I am going to make people stop fighting.

Dear Mrs. Coerr,

We are studying about survival in our class. The teacher read your story about Sadako. It taught us to always believe in yourself. And never give up. I will never forget this book. You made the sentences come alive.

HOW TO FOLD A PAPER CRANE

BY GAY MERRILL GROSS

The paper crane that Sadako folded is an example of origami, which in Japanese means folded paper.

Because it symbolizes long life, good health, and good fortune, the origami crane has long been the most popular origami figure in Japan. As the story of Sadako has spread, the paper crane has also come to be known around the world as a symbol of peace.

Beginning on the next page are instructions for you to fold the same origami crane that Sadako made.

For more information on origami and origami books and paper, contact:

OrigamiUSA

15 West 77th Street

New York, NY 10024-5192

www.origami-usa.org

Getting Started:

You will need a square of lightweight paper, approximately 6 to 8 inches square. Special origami paper is available at many toy and craft stores. If your paper is colored on one side only, begin with the colored side facing up.

Hint 1: Always do origami on a hard, flat surface.

Fold in half, corner to corner, to make…

… a triangle. Crease sharply and unfold back to a square.

Hint 2: Fold neatly and carefully.

Fold in half again, side corner to side corner.

Hint 3: Make very sharp creases.

Crease sharply and unfold back to a square.

Turn your paper over to the white side and position it as shown in drawing 6.

Fold in half edge to edge to make…

… a rectangle. Crease sharply and unfold back to a square.