Okay, I would like to achieve something significant in these minutes approaching my daily 4pm release from the Board of Education office. Reaquainting myself with the old blog and smiling through Carrie’s recent chroniclings seems like it could put some bounce back into my step as I head out into the sun.
It’s now approaching two weeks since we flew back into Kansai from three weeks in Seattle, Willoughby, Detroit, and Swartz Creek. While I’d like to say that I slipped right back into my old routines upon returning to Susami, it would probably be more accurate to describe the readjustment as something akin to throwing on the breaks and plowing into the back of a stalled car on the interstate, with all of the characteristic symptoms of whiplash included. I seek routine and it becomes me, but it makes me anxious when everything is so predictable, a complete schedule written out a year in advance.
Still there are novels, pilfered from my parent’s bookshelf and waiting to be read and endless hours than can be spent floating on my back in the deep pools beneath the falls. Just last week I was finally able to map out the rocky depths of those pools using the snorkeling mask that my parents left after their visit. Trout clamor into the crevices below where the water pours down from Shizuku Falls.
And of course, I’ve spent a fair bit of time reading US State Department press releases and looking over reports of crisis scenarios that occured in consulates and embassies. I pursue this odd diversion in the thought that it may help me be better prepared for the Foreign Service Oral Assessment which I will get to experience in October.
Maudgalyana (Mokuren in Japanese), a disciple of Buddha, discovered that his deceased mother’s soul suffered the life of a preta. Preta are supernatural beings that endure suffering far beyond humanly possible–in the form of extreme hunger and thirst. Wanting to save his mother from this fate, he sought advice from Buddha.
Buddha instructed Mokuren to seek out those monks who were returning from their summer retreats, and make offerings to them on the 15th day of the 7th month. After doing so, his mother’s soul was released and he became aware of her lifetime of selflessness and love for him. He gave thanks for his mother’s return and all she had done for him and began to do the dance that has become known in Japan as Bon Odori (Bon Dance).
The Bon Festival (or Obon Festival) is present in varying forms, in many countries that celebrate Buddhism. Here is our experience in Japan.
Susami Bon Odori, expressing appreciation for ancestors
Obon Festival Day 2 of 3
The view before the dance began.
Since my poor videos don’t have sound, you can get in the mood here, including frogs and cicadas:
As I mentioned previously, Obon is the time when the ancestors return home for a period of 3 days. Today, as many people have moved to other places, Obon has evolved into a family reunion of sorts. Family members return to the home town of their ancestors to visit and clean their graves, and re-visit household alters.
On Day 3, Colin and I started the afternoon by taking the bus up to Shizuku Waterfall to cool off in its waters before going to the beach that evening to observe the ceremonies when the ancestors would depart. I mostly spent my time engrossed by my book, with my feet hanging in one of the 3 levels of pools. My mind kept drifting to Obon, especially since there were so many visitors around our usually quiet place.
Colin enjoying level 2 of the 3 pools at Shizuku waterfall. A short action shot of Colin moving from level 2 to level Coming Soon–Not to be missed!
So, needless to say I had been thinking of death, time, life. It was quite peaceful until the loudest, and most hyper boy interrupted my peace. Trying to find the serenity I’d previously been lost in, I attempted to drown out his noise by focusing again on my book. It quickly proved impossible. He had no qualms about squeezing past my feet on the water’s edge to get to the other side, dripping cool water all over me and my book. Or grabbing on to me each time he nearly lost his balance. I gave up trying to ignore and just half-heartedly pretended to be reading.
The woman he was with–perhaps his mother–slid into the water. Well, that was the last straw for him. She was his ticket! He could have fun in the deep pools like the rest because she could hold him up. Without hesitation, he stabilized his feet, swung back his arms and plunged, grabbing tightly around her neck.
I kind of gave a laugh, and tried to look back at my book. He was giggling with glee and so happy. I had to look again. Her face was calm, everything okay. She kept going under, but I assumed she just needed to get him adjusted to a more comfortable position. I went back to my book for a short second and his piercing voice screamed with glee once more.
I looked up only to see her face this time. Panic. Suffer. She was reaching for me, but I couldn’t quite reach her. Colin started swimming over. I waited patiently for her arm to swing one more time, the 3rd time–I was sure I could get her then. Grabbing on as tightly as I could, I pulled them in, my own adrenaline rushing. Yes, it was a day to appreciate the dead, but I was certainly glad that we were able to help keep two people alives, on the 3rd day of Obon.
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Later that evening, at 7:20 a bell began to chime. It’s song was steady, but not rhythmic. People began to flood the streets to follow the bell and the boat laden with paper lanterns.
Here in Susami, on the final day of Obon, if a family has lost a loved one in the last 12 months they prepare a wooden boat with an alter on it, and decorate it with lanterns. The boat is transported to the beach where the whole town gathers to observe. Each boat has it’s own bell-ringer. It was quite entrancing to sit in the sand, hearing the sporadic ringing, the chanting (played from CD), talk, and laughter. Each family brought their own supply of fireworks and set them off toward the water, in front of their boats which rested on shore.
A woman and her daughter gaze at the lanterns before the boat is sent off.
At about 8:00, the men of the family carried the boats into the ocean to return the soul of their loved one back to heaven. Once the journey was complete, and their feet were once again on dry land, the bell for their family stopped ringing, gradually, signaling the departure.
Despite the solemn air, there was certainly a sense of festivity about the evening. You could buy shaved ice or french fries, and the evening ended with spectacular (for our small town) fireworks. I kept seeing the same ladies I danced with at the Bon Odori around town the few days after–people who would have been too nervous to talk to me before, but now felt a comfortable because we shared Obon together.
On August 8, 2008 I stepped off of the plane in Osaka. Greeted by the sticky thickness that is summer air, and the sweat that comes with stillness, I took a train to Susami once again. Our second year has begun.
While returning to Susami this August seems very similar to when I arrived exactly 12 months ago, there are changes around here. Things are different. I actually know people, I have a (sort of) sense of community within the local private walls. Susami feels a bit more like home the second time around.
There are more obvious changes as well. The biggest is that we have a new Okuwa. Okuwa is the local grocery store chain and for months there were rumors of the huge, new Okuwa being built less than a mile from the old one. There are debates about whether or not the size of the new store is actually bigger than the old one, but there is certainly a bigger parking lot. And–get this–it’s open till midnight!
More people drive from more places to visit our new Okuwa, with an area for cars that’s larger than the actual building. There is no more slipping into Okuwa for an item or two, undetected (or feeling undetected anyway). Living in a town of less than 5, 000 people and having performed at most major functions, everyone’s seen me before in the past 12 months. But now, because people come from other towns just to go to our Okuwa, people stare at me when I shop.
But, Okuwa seems to be much more than the place to buy groceries. Okuwa has become somewhat of the new local hang out. In the morning, the older women of town stop by to pick up whatever they couldn’t get at the farmer’s market, catching up with friends as they travel between the two hot spots. At 4pm the young mothers can be found chatting in the aisles as their little ones play (and scream and run) with friends near the candy. Night time brings the teenage crowd, slinking up and down the rows in groups, eventually buying a few things between them. And, there’s the crew of old men who show up at lunch time–no chatting for them, but lots of strolling before actual purchase.
Shopping has lost it’s efficiency. The store’s larger, but carries nearly the same products. And socializing is a required aspect of the event. Makes you wonder how the community would change if someone opened up a coffee shop around here, or a place for kids to hang out.
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Well, today’s the start of Obon. The ancestral spirits have returned and, therefore, so have all their relatives from all over the country. The spirits will stay for just 3 days, so there’s lots to do and lots of celebrating. We’re looking forward to the Bon Odori (Bon Dance) hosted by our very own neighborhood tomorrow night, followed by fireworks. Friday night is the ceremony to send the ancestors back–in Susami the send-off is in the ocean. Hopefully I’ll have some photos of this to share soon.
