If you will remember back to my earlier post entitled, "The Ballad of Bone and Kuma," I wrote about a man I affectionately named "Mr. Ki."
The word "Ki," like "Chi" in Chinese culture, can refer to one's spirit, essence, or being. Mr. Ki spoke very passionately about his own life force in relation to some of Ehime Prefecture's more dangerous autumn mikoshi festivals.
A "mikoshi" can best be described as a portable Shinto shrine. If you envision the Ark of the Covenant from Indiana Jones, you'll be on the right track visually. These gold boxes are hoisted off the ground and carried around the city via two or four wooden poles and a whole lot of manpower!
As is custom in these parts, many autumn festivals feature "battling mikoshi." The basic idea is to have two groups of men carrying mikoshi run into each other at full speed as if jousting. In most cases, the only goal is to smash the shrines together until the opposing side's monument is completely destroyed. Think of it as a traditional Japanese-style demolition derby.
This past Saturday I attended the Taiko Festival in the neighboring city of Niihama. The Niihama Taiko Festival is a one of the largest and most famous "battling mikoshi" festivals in the prefecture.
The Taiko Festival is named such because each of the giant 17-foot-tall mikoshi that are carried through the city, have a taiko drum and a taiko drummer housed inside. Thus, the procession of shrine floats is punctuated with the booms of these traditional Japanese drums.
Once a good number of floats have congregated in a central area (in my case a local Shinto Shrine), it's time for the battling to begin. Since smashing these giant towers together would kill or maim an untold number of people (not to mention the poor soul drumming inside), the opposing group members merely attempt to violently throw each other from the float.
Speaking about this festival, Mr. Ki said his (and I quote) "heart is set ablaze" by the display of spirit. He also said that every year several people die during the festival. These unfortunate souls are usually spectators who fall and get trampled by the enormous crowd.
Having spent the better part of my last hour at the festival nose-to-neck in a solid mass of human flesh, I can attest to the very real possibility of getting injured if you are not careful with your footing.
"I'm 62 now," Mr. Ki said. "At this age I feel that I am ready to die. If I were to die during the festival...
(long pause)
...that would be a good death."
B.E.W.
No comments:
Post a Comment