The Bibulous Gods

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October 5th 2007

Published: February 25th 2008

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Yellow Head

Power

needless to say, he did most of the lifting

I have eaten my fair share of rice since coming to Japan. It has become my staple dish and a day rarely passes when I don’t have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I have become so accustomed to it that a meal wouldn’t feel complete without an overflowing “yama-bori”, or mountain-bowl, of rice.

Every year, in the end of September to early October, a festival called Aki Matsuri, or the Fall Festival, is held throughout Japan. It is celebrated in reverence to the Japanese harvest gods, especially those of the rice harvests. It is a vibrant festival that is usually celebrated over the course of two days. Everyone in the local community takes part in it, from newly born babies to the extreme elderly. You’ll even see people’s dogs or cats strolling about in eclectically colored happi, a light over-jacket or robe worn during Japanese festivals, and adding to the matsuri vibe. This is one of the things that make this such a fun festival, no one is left out and everyone plays a part. The old ladies cook a feast to power on the drunken men laboring under the weight of the mikoshi, the island elders line the

Beating the Heat

streets to cheer on the participants, and dogs and cats bark and stare in amazement at the crazy procession of people staggering and shouting throughout the town’s streets and alleys.

Since I am young, and indebt to the good rice harvests, I participate in the festival every year. The town also asks me to take part in one of the most honored roles of the festival, the mikoshi carrier. A mikoshi slightly resembles a palanquin and is commonly described in English as a portable shrine. It is a suiting name since its role is to transfer the god’s spirit from the temple to that of the mikoshi and then it is taken on a ride throughout the town. The ride is always a rough and very drunken one. The men carrying the mikoshi constantly stagger back and forth under the massive weight and their ever increasing drunken state. And this is the idea behind the ride. It is not supposed to be smooth and nice. The belief is that the men and the path they make are determined by that of the god riding on top of them in the mikoshi. And the rougher the ride, which at times

Hard

as rocks

verges on borderline violent, the better. Evidently this god is a wild one.

The procession usually lasts from the early morning to dusk, in total around 8-10 hours. It stops at designated spots along the way were the men are allowed a couple minutes of rest as they are force-fed shot after shot of sake. Over the course of the day the bibulous mikoshi carriers become dangerously drunk and begin to drop like flies. It is intense.

Towards the end of the day the remaining carriers and I that were left from the original group dropped the mikoshi out of sheer exhaustion. It came crashing down from 6 feet over the ground onto the concrete road. I seemed to be the only person in shock out of dropping this beautiful antique. The others just shrugged it off as they struggled to pick it up and make the final rush of the day. After that point I don’t remember that much. The eight hour piss-up had taken its toll on my weary body and I blacked out.

At least I made it too the end.

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