Last weekend marked Akune’s highly revered annual Summer Festival, the Midokoi Matsuri. Matsuri is the word for festival, I know that much. However, I was not able to get a clear answer from my colleagues at the city office as to what Midokoi actually meant. For one, Midokoi is a word that is derived from the regional dialect, Kagoshima-ben (ben meaning dialect, or for the jargon lovers, the colloquial vernacular). It was only after I donned my ceremonial yellow and green robe (‘happi’, sounds like happy), white shorts and a red and black polka dot headband, drank a few beers, had a few shots with my cohorts and marched to the centre of the city in the streets that I heard over the loud speaker the essence of Midokoi: to bask in the wealth of good food, good drinks, great music, close friends and prosperity. All in one festival? Sure.
I received a crash-course lesson in traditional Midokoi dancing before hitting the streets. The moves that are essential to dancing in the parade consist of motions similar to that of shutting and closing a cabinet with both hands, at eye level; smiling and slightly bowing is also more than welcome, especially if you are the new foreigner in town. After a couple of drinks at the city office, my place of work, one mini drink and a couple bumps of Akune shochu (the best hooch in the country) I was ready to hit the road with the staff that runs the inner workings of the city, including Mayor Takehara himself. If my readers have not noticed already, Akune-shi does not hold back on their drinking. In response, I practice the most humble form of discretion: say no once, and then say kampai (cheers) once more.
I was truly amazed at how organized the parade was that Saturday evening. From the pre-school marching bands, who rocked out hard, to the freshest of the fresh middle school dance troops, I was among a highly trained-or so it seemed-group of Akune festival-goers. I was relieved when I heard the loud speaker call out the first break in the parade. Wait. Break? In a parade? For what? I was whisked away by the primary security officer at the city office, Matsunaga-san, who insisted that I call him Captain Matsunaga (he is a class 1 Captain, license and everything), and the next thing I know I was in a crowded bathroom with another mini-Asahi in my hand. I, at last, understood what the break was for: a peeing and drinking break, combined, genius. After the third or fourth block of parading, I got the hang of the dance and was overjoyed at the sight of those who crowded the sidewalks, clapping their hands to the beat of the taiko drums and rocking back and forth to the steady plucking of the shamisen. During the second and third leg of the parade I was summoned to the front row to dance with Mayor Takehara, who, like me at times, enjoys the spotlight more that hates it. Night had fallen by the time the parade portion of the Midokoi Matsuri was concluded. It was still around 28 degrees with very high humidity.
Sunday was no different from the day before, for it was a blazing 30 plus degrees before noon when I was on my way to Akune’s port to see the community performance. I arrived at the port and was greeted first by the rank smell of fishnets, the beautiful smell of the sea and a port full of onlookers at what seemed to be a very lively gathering for the final day of the Midokoi Matsuri. A variety of dance groups, accompanied by taiko drums, shamisen and old men-who could really wail some great bass notes-was the main attraction of the afternoon events. I wandered over to the seaside of the stage and bumped into one of the front desk ladies at the city office, Mayumi. She and I stood and chatted for a while before she started flirting with me. I think she liked my hair. She is hilarious. So hilarious that she treated me to lunch, twice. Before coming home from the port I made sure to pick up some fresh saba (mackerel), a local favourite, delicious and a breeze to cook on my new, handy dandy gas range grill.
That same night was the firework show, also held at the port. I learned a lot during the firework show: babies do not enjoy fireworks; fireworks will set off sensitive car alarms within a seven-block radius; fireworks are breathtaking and captivating, on any given night-except in cloudy Seattle, that is.
Today I attended my first speech contest. In other words, today was my first venture into the world of Japanese Junior High School, puberty at its finest. I actually felt more self-conscious than most of the kids giving speeches today. The weight of two hundred pairs of eyes when I walked through the entrance to Akune Junior High’s gymnasium is something I will never forget (please, if you like films, especially old films, research ‘Twenty-four Eyes [二重四の瞳, Nijushi no hitomi]’, by Keisuke Kinoshita, 1954). The speech contests’ intention was to give students a chance to state their opinions, openly, and on any subject that they sought fit. For example: what we can do about global warming; my hometown; the importance of friends; and the weight of our words, which went on to claim first place. There was one speech that I thoroughly enjoyed.
The smallest boy on stage, Yanaka-san, delivered his speech with gusto and took command of his audience. Yanaka-san spoke about how he learned from an injury he had last year in the spring. Yanaka-san, much like I had done roughly six years ago, broke his arm and soon learned how important having two functional arms is. The point that Yanaka-san devoted the majority of his speech to, though, was one that resonated with me as well as the audience, or so it seemed. Yanaka-san, standing just over a meter tall, learned that those who take care of you when you are in need, those who truly understand the magnitude of a friends’ hardship, those are your true friends. Well done, Yanaka-san.
What an opportunity. To be able to speak in front of one’s entire school, one’s entire community is something that I did not quite expect to witness my first day at school. However, as soon as the prizes and honourable mentions were distributed, the kids dared not come near me, even to utter their first and last name. I guess they still have a bit of summer vacation left before English class starts.
In light of the moving and opinionative speech contest today, I leave you with this, very telling, Japanese proverb: 出る杭は打たれる, The nail that stands up, gets hammered down.
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