After the morning classes today, we gathered up in front of Sugimotocho station to prepare to visit a nearby high school. After the first aborted attempt cluttered by cynical side conversations and lack of situational awareness, we finally had our first proper attendance call off. From similar military experiences I know that these things take time to get perfect, and I was proud to see our group finally pull off this up-count.
A few stations down from Sugimotocho we trudged to a nearby high school through a rain occasionally sheltered by the bend of an elevated highway. The old gentleman stationed at the gate directed us to the schoolhouse entrance as the kids on the third floor waved down to us. Once inside we all exchanged our shoes for extra-small green slippers and tripped our way to the event hall upstairs.
A few of the Japanese students and instructors gave us a beautiful
welcoming speech. Next, two of our own presented about their passion for anime
and the differences between American and Japanese school grading systems. The
Japanese students politely (I can only assume) listened, while the rest of the ERAU
company did our best hide our snickering.
Image credit: Dr. Hisaya Tsutsui
During these talks I was distracted by what I first thought was the rhythm of a passing train, and later was certain that I was hearing the drums from a rock-music club downstairs. As we gathered into our Japanese student lead groups for later wanderings, one of the facilitators directed us to a window where we saw a small caravan of revelers chanting, drumming, and shouting their way down the alley.
My student group headed off first towards a covered shopping street much less busy, and more honest feeling, than Shinsaibashi. Shops here sold more local items instead of more of the same stuff purchased in bulk from China; including a kitchen tool store, used electronics + clothing, and an appliance store. I think there is also a carpentry tool store nearby that I’ll need to visit.
Halfway down the narrow passage runners with lanterns began passing us from the opposite direction. They were advance chauffeurs clearing and safing the route for the approaching parade!
The coming procession centered around a large ornately carved wooden cat that was pulled along by adults and children via a large rope looped rome, each chanting in time along with the beat of the chimes emanating from the carriage. Two of the children, pulling ropes opposite each other, shouted across to each other in competition for who could yell the chant the loudest.
When the cart passed in front of me under the covered shopping street, I could see the percussionists within small chambers playing on bronze cast iron skillet shaped bells with hammers made of deer antler. On both the front and the rear of the cart there was someone lazily hanging with one arm looped through a rope strung across the edge of the roof. They swung their heads back and forth as they chanted with the children, simultaneously swinging a large fan to cool off those leading and trailing the wagon.
Every few dozen yards someone would blow a loud whistle and the precession would stop, the beat changed, and the children shouted in time with a dance performed by five men (one on each corner and one in the center) standing on top of the wagon. When they started moving again, the troupe on top picked up ropes to keep their balance as the wagon trundled along.
We continued our walk, and across the city block several other miniature parades were taking place. I do not know how they were organized, but each group was preceded by runners and crossing guards, and the main body of the group was followed by a dozen or so elderly people on bicycles who were pleasantly watching the proceedings. I imagined that each caravan was an extended family group, club, church, school, or other social group that worked together to run this ceremony.
But I also think that this was coordinated at a higher level, as I saw several groups of volunteer runners and organizers resting, smoking, and eating lunch at a nearby shrine.
I am not exactly sure what I witnessed today, but I am sure that I would like to build one of those bronze skillet-shaped bells and antler hammers. The rhythm wrought by tapping the walls of the skillet and banging its bottom like a gong is enduring in my memory.
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