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A
series of essays by SGI President Ikeda in which he reflects
on his encounters with various world figures
Valentina
Tereshkova--
First Woman in Space
"You cannot possibly imagine how beautiful it is. Anyone who sees the Earth
from outer space, even only once, cannot fail to be assailed by a sense of
reverence and love for this planet that is our home."
Valentina Tereshkova was the first woman in space, orbiting the Earth in
Vostok 6 in June 1963 at the age of only 26. Her lively voice was broadcast
to people all around the world: "It is I, Seagull!" Using her call sign
Chaika (Seagull), she reported: "I see the horizon--a light blue, a
beautiful band. The Earth--it is so beautiful!"
The image of a seagull soaring on high seemed to fit the young cosmonaut
perfectly, and thereafter she came to be known affectionately as "Seagull"
by people throughout the world.
I first met Ms. Tereshkova in Moscow in May 1975. Seated facing me with a
warm smile of welcome, she retained a modest and unassuming presence.
I asked her why she had become a cosmonaut, curious to know what had caused
her to embark on such an exciting adventure. "Let me see . . . ," she began in a quiet voice, hands folded on the table.
She said that she first decided she wanted to go into space after Soviet
cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin succeeded in the first manned space flight. The
whole world was talking about his epoch-making achievement, and nowhere
more so than the Soviet Union: "The first man in space! A Soviet! A Soviet
youth!" Everyone at the factory where she worked was filled with excitement
and jubilation.
On returning home that evening, after a day of rejoicing and celebration,
the young Valentina's life was changed forever by some words spoken
casually by her mother: "Now that a man has gone into space, next time it
will be a woman's turn."
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| Ms. Tereshkova presenting Mr. Ikeda with a Russian doll (Moscow, May 1987) |
Ms. Tereshkova was raised by her mother. Her father had gone off to fight
in World War II when she was two and been killed in action a short time
later. He had been a tractor driver, and she has only faint memories of him
giving her a ride on his tractor. One night in the middle of the war,
during a blizzard, the news of his death arrived. Her mother's quiet
sobbing remains, like a bad dream, in her memory. She was only three. She
had an older sister, and her mother was pregnant with her brother. Her
grandmother, unable to accept the fact that her son had died, never stopped
waiting for his return.
What untold pain and suffering has been inflicted on women and children by
the tragedy of war! I, and those of my generation, have seen this ourselves
to a point almost beyond enduring.
A widow at 27, Ms. Tereshkova's mother did her best to support and raise
her three children on her own. At times she would say that their family
must have been abandoned by fortune. Eventually the family moved to the
city. Her mother and older sister worked together at a textile mill in
Yaroslavl on the banks of the Volga. Her mother was such a hard worker, Ms.
Tereshkova said, that she and her siblings never saw her idle or at rest.
At 17, Ms. Tereshkova herself went to work in a tire factory. On her first
payday, she bought a flower-print head scarf and some sweets for her
mother. When her mother saw the gifts, she burst into tears. After the long
winter, the light of spring slowly began to shine on their humble family.
After Gagarin's historic space flight, anyone in the Soviet Union could
volunteer for the space program. "I volunteered, of course," said Ms. Tereshkova. "I'm sure there wasn't a single young person in all of the
Soviet Union who wouldn't have given their right arm to be able to do what
Lieutenant Gagarin had done," she says of that time.
She had the good fortune to be chosen, but the training was far tougher
than she had anticipated. She didn't go into the details, but she did say,
"The training was very tough, in both kind and quantity. It progressed
stage by stage, and each stage was a real challenge to my physical
strength." One can sense intuitively just how demanding the training really
must have been. When she was in the centrifuge, she felt as if her blood
had turned to mercury, she once wrote.
She had to study many specialized subjects, including rocket science,
intensively. Each day was a battle, but she was not deterred. "I believe,"
she explained, "that when you have a dream and dedicate all your strength
and being to achieving it, you can realize it without fail."
She said she felt that the picture of her mother she kept in her room was
cheering her on; her mother's gaze seemed to say: "I know you can do it!"
Whenever she received her salary, she would hurry to the post office to
send money home to her mother.
The day when she would actually go into space finally arrived. Over the
course of three days, she circled the Earth 48 time---meaning that she saw a
new dawn every one and a half hours. "It was breathtakingly beautiful," she
said, "like something out of a fairy tale." The Earth was surrounded by a
circle of soft light that constantly changed color, going through the
entire spectrum.
"There is no way I can describe the joy of seeing the Earth," she remarked.
"It was blue, and more beautiful than any other planet. Every continent,
every ocean, had its own distinct beauty."
As she circled the Earth, she thought of her mother back home. She thought
of all the mothers on Earth.
The Earth teemed with life. Whatever she saw--mountains, forests and
oceans-all the life they contained, all the birds, the insects and animals
and fish, and all the people on the planet, too, had mothers. She realized
that every single person on Earth had a mother who had undergone the pain
of childbirth to bring them into the world. All of these children were
truly precious, born with the Earth's blessing. Without mothers, none of us
would be here. Life passes from mother to child, mother to child--if even
just a single link in this chain of life had been broken in the billions of
years that life has existed on this planet, we would not be here today.
She reflected on the infinite number of mothers--mothers who wish for
nothing more than that we, their children, live good lives. She couldn't
help feeling that the Earth is filled with the sound of these mothers'
prayers.
Gazing upon the Earth from space, Ms. Tereshkova thought: "There are all
sorts of mothers on our planet, but mine is the best. I want to make sure
that there are no more war widows like my mother, and no more children like
me, who never even knew their own fathers."
The 21st century will be the century of life. It will be the century of
women. We must make it an age when the prayers for peace of all mothers,
since the beginning of history, are finally answered.
My friendship with Ms. Tereshkova continues to this day. I met her again in
1987 and 1990. I was glad to see that she still stands tall, strong and
youthful, and continues her activities. She has one daughter, Yelena, who
today works as a surgeon.
In May 1987, I was invited to the Soviet Union by the Presidium of the
Union of Soviet Societies for Friendship and Cultural Relations with
Foreign Countries, of which Ms. Tereshkova was chairperson, and she not
only came to greet me at the airport but also accompanied me to various
functions over a four-day period. The SGI had brought its "Nuclear Weapons:
Threat to Our World" exhibition to Moscow on that occasion, and Ms.
Tereshkova was there very early on the opening day, busy helping with
preparations.
I remember Ms. Tereshkova remarking, "Once you've been in space, you
appreciate how small and fragile the Earth is. This small, blue, shining
planet. We must not allow it to be covered by the black ash of a nuclear
war. All the women of the world must join hands and make peace happen. We
are all riding on 'Spaceship Earth' together."
Seagull continues to fly here on Earth in pursuit of her dream of peace.
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