Author: NAPF

In his own words:

I am a nuclear witness and my memories from Likiep Atoll in the northern Marshalls are strong. I lived there as a boy for the entire 12 years of the US nuclear testing program and when I was 9 years old, I remember vividly the white flash of the Bravo detonation on Bikini atoll.

It was in the morning and my grandfather and I were out fishing. Unlike previous ones, Bravo went off with a very bright flash, almost a blinding flash; bear in mind we were almost 200 miles away from ground zero. No sound, just a flash and then a force, the shock wave – as if you were under a glass bowl and someone poured blood over it. Everything turned red: sky, the ocean, the fish, my grandfather’s net. People in Rongelap claim they saw the sun rising from the West.

My memories are a mixture of awe, of fear, and of youthful wonder. We were young, and military representatives were like gods and so our reactions to the tests as they took place were confused and terrifying. We had no clue what was happening to us and to our homelands. I saw the injuries to our countrymen from Rongelap and to this day cannot recall in words my sense of helplessness and anxiety without severe emotional stress. But for as long as I can remember, the explosions and the bizarre effects that lit up our skies are still a source of pain and anger. How could human beings do this to other humans?

The emotional and psychological trauma to our people, both young and old, cannot be measured in real terms. The pain is real and the uncertainty is overwhelming. But we will never give up. We have a voice that will not be silenced until the world is rid of all nuclear weapons.

Sources:
huffingtonpost.com/…marshall-islands-nuclear-lawsuit
wagingpeace.org/tony-de-brum-at-the-nuclear-zero-lawsuits-forum/

March 1, 1954 should have been just another ordinary day for Rokko Langinbelik. Instead, it was a day that changed her life. Rokko was 12 years old, living on Rongalap Atoll. Life was simple. But on that morning in March, the U.S. detonated the nuclear test known as Bravo on the Bikini Atoll. It was an explosion that would turn out to be 1,000 times more powerful than the Hiroshima bomb.

“It was like the sun was all around us.  And we heard the big thunder. I was very scared. My parents didn’t understand what was happening,” said Rokko.

The explosion sent a radioactive cloud some 20 miles into the atmosphere and created a nuclear hurricane that engulfed Rongelap. The Bravo test had been carried out despite a change in the wind’s direction, and the local residents were not warned ahead of time. Fallout rained down on the unsuspecting islanders – men in their fishing boats, others tending or gathering crops, children at play.

Rokko remembers that after the Bravo explosion, every man, woman and child on Rongelap Atoll was sickened by the yellowish “snow” that fell from the sky and blanketed her island. Both of her parents later died of cancer, as did many other villagers. Rokko herself suffered from thyroid cancer. Two of her children died of complications she believes were associated with the lingering effects of the fallout. The Bravo test was only one of 67 nuclear tests conducted by the U.S. in and around the Marshall Islands between 1946 and 1958.

Rokko traveled to Washington in 2002 with five other Pacific Islanders to tell Congress about how her people have suffered and to seek aid from the United States, stating that to this day, the fallout effects of those tests have never been fully reported. And the emotional and physical toll on the Marshall Islanders may never be completely known or understood.

Rokko Langinbelik, now a soft-spoken grandmother, vows to continue to raise her voice in support of nuclear abolition so that no one else in the world will have to suffer as the people of her country have.

Sources:
wfn.org
yokwe.net
bwcumc.org/survivors
honoluluadvertiser.com/article/2003/mar/02/in/in05a.html

Jeban Riklon was two years old, living life on an island paradise when the Bravo nuclear test was detonated. It was an explosion that would turn out to be 1,000 times more powerful than the bomb dropped on Hiroshima.

His family and the entire community on Rongelap were relocated for three years before being allowed back to their home island. Jeban and his family were not informed, however, of the extremely contaminated state of their home upon return.

From a U.S. official report: “Even though the radioactive contamination of Rongelap Island is considered perfectly safe for human habitation, the levels of activity are higher than those found in other inhabited locations in the world. The habitation of these people on the island affords most valuable ecological radiation data on human beings.”

Riklon did not read that report until much later in his life, but while at the Second Conference on the Humanitarian Impact of Nuclear Weapons in Mexico, February 2014, Riklon alluded to it when he said,“I grew up to witness and experience the unforgettable human consequences from the fallout. When you spend your whole life seeing that much physical and emotional pain, your tears dry up and you force yourself to question intentions, justice and human value. Many of our survivors became human subjects in laboratories and almost 60 years on, we are still suffering.”

Jeban Riklon counts himself lucky to be alive today, though he suffers from permanent headaches, nausea, and muscle pain. He pays the price of the Bravo test each day of his life, while also fighting for the rights of his fellow Marshall Islanders. He demands justice for the human rights violations his people experienced and for the promise that has gone unanswered. “People, especially the younger generation, don’t understand the consequences of contamination. We who were under the fallout, we know. We experience it mentally and physically every day of our lives.”

Sources:
reddirtreport.com/around-world/marshall-islanders
counterpunch.org/2012/09/17/nuclear-betrayal-in-the-marshall-islands/
ipsnews.net/2014/02/nuclear-weapons-leave-unspeakable-legacy

Lijon Eknilang was just a little girl at the time of the Bravo nuclear test on March 1, 1954. She remembered the snowstorm-like covering of radioactive fallout that plagued Rongelap following the blast. Like so many of her neighbors, Lijon faced long-term health problems following the blast. For Lijon, those terrible health problems came in the form of seven miscarriages, and the inability to have children.

Lijon’s suffering motivated her to pursue anti-nuclear activism, which brought her to the United States and Europe to draw attention to the health problems experienced by the people of Rongelap. Often referred to as the ‘icon of the Marshall Islands,’ Lijon’s international advocacy for the nuclear test victims at Rongelap has been instrumental in exposing the tragedies that occurred there. Lijon spoke on behalf of the Rongelapese nuclear test victims before the United States Congress and the Advisory Proceedings on the Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons at the International Court of Justice. She exposed the health problems and gruesome birth defects faced by the Rongelapese women, and in doing so become known for her accounts of ‘jellyfish babies’, which she described as children born with no muscles or bones.

Lijon Eknilang continued her advocacy throughout her life, participating in many discussions and panels, and submitting her personal accounts to publications such as the Seattle Journal for Social Justice. In August, 2012, Lijon passed away on the island of Majuro. She was 82.

Sources:
mstories.org/nuclear-eknilang.php
youtube.com/watch?v=pN31P8bi_JRI

In her own words:

From 1946 to 1958, the United States conducted 67 nuclear tests in my home, the Marshall Islands. The most powerful of those tests was the “Bravo” shot, a 15 megaton device detonated on March 1, 1954, at Bikini atoll – which was 1,000 times the power of the Hiroshima bomb. Since then, the US has continued to deny responsibility while many Marshallese continue to die due to cancer and other radiation related illnesses. In my own family, both my grandparents passed away before I was born due to cancer and just two years ago I lost my ten year old niece Bianca to leukemia. Radiation related illnesses endure into today, and many more of our family members continue to battle with the effects of those tests which took place over 50 years ago.

We Marshallese grow up with this history and these stories. We know them all too well. Not just stories of cancer, but also stories of babies born with no limbs, of stillbirths and thyroid problems, of families starving on outer atolls after being displaced from their own homes, stories of ash that fell from the sky that looked like snow. And then there are the stories of the land we lost – the beautiful bountiful Bikini atoll, how the elders cried as they were ripped from the shores of their ancestors.

The hardships which the “nuclear nomads” of the four atolls – Bikini, Rongelap, Enewetak and Utrik – have had to face is all the more horrific when you take into account how strongly our culture is tied to our islands, how peaceful we have been as a people, and how vulnerable we were to the US. As our land and our food became contaminated, we were forced into an increased dependence on imported, canned foods, a major change in our diet and lifestyle – which has contributed to a modern day epidemic of diabetes. It also meant that our people were no longer able to maintain certain cultural traditions, skills and knowledge that depended on close ties to our land. Despite all of these trials, however, our people have survived. And we continue to resist.

I am proud to say I come from a line of activists who have for many years fought against these atrocities. It is this history which gives us the strength that is needed to continue to remember, recommit, and resist, as we continue the struggle to bring about change for our people.

Source:
Kathy Jetnil-Kijiner’s blog piece, Reflections on Nuclear Survivors Day
huffingtonpost.com/2014/09/23/kathy-jetnil-kijiner_n_5870194.html

John Anjain was awake and drinking coffee on the morning of the Bravo nuclear test. What he first perceived to be a brilliant sunrise turned out to be something much more perilous. Following the initial brilliant light came smoke, scorching winds, and a lifetime of pain.

In his role as magistrate of Rongelap, John recalls warning people not to drink from water catchments as the water had a noticeable yellow tinge. He remembers trying to comfort those whose skin had blistered, whose vomiting wouldn’t stop and whose hair began to fall out in big clumps. Along with witnessing the suffering of his people, John faced tragedies in his own family.

Four of John’s children developed cancer attributed to radiation. John’s son, Lekoj, was one year old when the Bravo test occurred. He died 18 years later from myelogenous leukemia. Lekoj is officially recognized as the sole casualty of the nuclear tests, although John’s memory of countless miscarriages, cancer developments, and health complications contest this narrative.

John Anjain’s experience with nuclear testing led him to become a strong anti-nuclear advocate, both for the Marshall Islands and for the entire international community. For years, he appealed to the U.S. to provide aid for the radiation victims. He visited Japan many times to attend rallies and give lectures on nuclear disarmament. And he kept the only medical records of the Bikini Atoll nuclear test victims. At the time of the blast, John recorded the names of 86 victims. By 1997, 38 people on his list had died.

John Anjain passed away at age 81 in 2004. To this day, his memory survives in his endless work for the people of Rongelap and his impact on the anti-nuclear movement.

Sources:
health.phys.iit.edu/extended archive/0407/msg00215.html
Morizumi-pj.com/bikini/English/en-bikini.html
yokwe.net