Old and new ways to ring in the New Year

After first arriving in Japan in 1987, I quickly learned to stock up for the first three days of the New Year since all stores would be shuttered while their owners and employees spent time with their families.

Times have changed. Today most stores remain open during the holidays and 24-hour convenience stores abound.

While modern times have brought welcome changes, perhaps along the way some of the understanding of the holiday customs has been lost, cast aside amid the hubbub of TV specials and New Year’s Sales.

To understand Japan’s New Year, we need to return to the holiday’s roots, which date as far back as the 1st century. In those days, the ancient people celebrated in three main ways.

• Welcoming the toshi-kami, the god of the new year.
• Praying for bountiful harvests in the coming year.
• Expressing gratitude for another year of life.

These practices are reflected in today’s New Year’s traditions, and each of the holiday’s countless customs is imbued with meaning.

Let’s take a look at a few of the most outstanding traditions, work our way forward in time, and end with a look at those TV specials.

Welcoming the God of the New Year, the Toshi-Kami

The Shinto Toshi-kami descends from the heavens via the pine decorations that adorn each house. Around the time families break and eat their kagami mochi, the New Year’s decorations are ceremonially burned—typically around January 15th, depending on regional customs—the smoke transports the god back to the heavens, leaving behind his blessings and protection for the year ahead.

This Toshi-kami is a busy god with a wide portfolio. Besides being the god who brings bounty and blessings in the new year, he also merges with the collective spirit of each family’s ancestors, their sorei, who visits their family at this time (although the sorei’s main holiday is Obon, in the summer). The Toshi-kami then becomes a ta no kami, rice field god, in the spring, and a yama no kami, mountain god, after harvest in the fall. He is also sometimes known as the god of lucky directions.

Reflecting the importance of purity and cleanliness in the Shinto religion, a thorough house cleaning is done at the end of December. People get rid of clutter, dust behind cabinets, change the paper in the paper doors, and make their houses spotless. Once that is done, Shimenawa ropes are hung upon the doorways signifying that the house is purified and ready to welcome the Toshi-kami.

Gratitude for Another Year of Life

Long ago in Japan, in accord with the Chinese method of counting years, newborns were considered one year old, and another year of life was added to everyone on New Year’s Day, regardless of their birthdays.

Gifts of Money, O-Toshi-Dama

As a kind of birthday present on New Year’s Day, children receive small envelopes filled with money for the year from each of their older relatives. This money is called o-toshi-dama, お年玉, literally “honorable year’s jewels.” Since Christmas is a fairly recent import into Japan and not a holiday (see my brief history of Christmas here), New Year’s Day is the day children have traditionally looked forward to receiving gifts, i.e., money.

Special New Year’s Dishes, Osechi-ryori

In order to take a holiday from cooking and enjoy time with one’s extended family, special foods are painstakingly prepared in advance — or bought — to be eaten together with the Toshi-kami during the first three days of the new year. Eating these meals with the gods is said to impart spiritual power and blessings upon the mortals.

Each food has its specific meaning, and there are too many to mention, but here are a few.

Sea Bream — Tai, for an auspicious year

The traditional Japanese calendar started in spring and so New Year’s Day used to be a springtime occasion. From the image of the first sprouts appearing came the expression mede-tai, 芽出度い (pronounced meh-deh-tie), literally “the time when sprouts emerge.” From that, mede-tai came to be used to describe something happy and auspicious.

For this reason, sea bream, called tai, 鯛, is an essential part of any osechi-ryōri. It plays on the homonym tai, “happy” and “auspicious” — everyone’s sincere wish for the new year.

Herring Roe — Kazunoko, for many children

Another popular item is herring roe, called kazunoko, 鯑. Its homonym means many children, 数の子.

Shrimp — Ebi, for long life

As a wish for long life, shrimp are eaten. Shrimp, called ebi, 海老, literally “the aged of the sea,” suggest the long beards and bent frames of the elderly.

Dried Sardines — Tazukuri, for bountiful harvests

Tazukuri, 田作り, is a dish made of dried sardines and soy sauce. Its name means “making a rice field.” Sardines were traditionally used as fertilizer in rice paddies in many areas of Japan, thus the dish expresses the wish for abundant harvests.

Rolled Omelets — Datemaki, for days of blessings

Perhaps my favorite wordplay is the name for the rolled, sweet omelet mixed with fish paste. It is called datemaki, 伊達巻 (pronounced dah-te-ma-key), so named because the samurai lords of Sendai (in Miyagi Prefecture), the Date clan (dah-te), were famous for being well-dressed.

In ancient Japan, holidays were called hare no hi, ハレの日, special days, and on such days people wore their finest clothes — what we might call their Sunday best.

From this idea of fashionable Date clan style clothing being worn on special days, the Date-maki sweet omelet expresses the wish for many such special days in the coming year.

Bell Ringing

From the introduction of Buddhism in the 6th century, Buddhist customs merged with the ancient Shinto customs. As such, at midnight on New Year’s Eve, Buddhist temple bells are rung 108 times, banishing the 108 worldly desires. This marks both a prayer for forgiveness for the past year, and a prayer for steadfastness in the next.

First Shrine Visit of the Year, Hatsumōde

On the first three days of the New Year, people flock to Shinto shrines, and many to Buddhist temples, for their first visit of the year, called Hatsumōde. Meiji Shrine in the center of Tokyo traditionally receives over 3 million visitors each year during the New Year’s holidays, but even small countryside shrines get plenty of visitors.

Visitors to shrines clap, bow, and say a brief prayer for the year. People often buy omikuji, little slips of paper picked out from a box with their fortunes for the year foretold. If they are worried that not all of their fortune is good, they can tie the paper to a tree or a wire hung at the shrine, and leave that undesirable fortune in the hands of the gods, carrying the good fortune home in their hearts.

As all their previous year’s omamori (good luck charms), daruma dolls, and household protective amulets were brought to shrines to be burned at the end of December, people buy new charms for such things as safety and protection for the new year, success in studies, or safe childbirth, new daruma for setting goals for the year, and new ema upon which to write their prayers.

Nengajo, New Year’s Greeting Postcards

On New Year’s Day, bundles of postcards are delivered to each house. These are sent by friends and associates containing words of thanks for past kindnesses, well-wishes, and yoroshiku-onegaishimasu — please, and thank you in advance — for kindnesses in the new year.

People spend time during the day nibbling on osechi-ryōri, reading over the various greetings, and remembering old friends. The cards are usually themed according to the animals of the Chinese zodiac, 2022 being the year of the Tiger.

TV Specials

A big event in many households is the yearly New Year’s Eve TV specials. The most famous by far is a good-natured singing contest, Kōhaku Uta Gassen. Musicians are divided into two teams, a red team composed of females, and a white team composed of males. The red and white division of teams gives the show its name, Kōhaku, meaning red and white.

NHK, the national TV broadcasting corporation, began airing this show from the year Japan got its first TVs, 1953. Musicians are chosen by invitation only, and performing on Kōhaku is considered quite an honor and even can be the highlight of one’s career. The spectacular lighting, costumes, and set design never disappoint.

At the end of the show, the audience, together with the judges, votes on the winning team.

Competing with Kōhaku for viewers is a bizarre show that is popular among many of the younger generation, called, Dauntaun no Gaki no Sukaiyaarahende! which defies translation.

On this year-end special, serious celebrities face off against several old-school comedians who are placed in various situations — on a bus, then in a school, or whatever the theme is that year — and the celebrities do and say outrageous things to make the comedians laugh.

If they laugh, which they inevitably do, people dressed in commando camouflage jump out and spank them with rubbery batons. The absurdity of all this is considered hilarious.

Japanese TV, truly unique, has to be seen to be believed.

This is by no means a complete list of New Year’s customs. Other traditions include making and eating delicious pounded sticky rice cakes called mochi, children flying kites in the clear breezy skies of winter, and eager shoppers hunting for “lucky bags” filled with mystery discounts at their favorite stores. In a small fishing port on the Izu Peninsula, on finds a unique New Year’s decoration welcoming the god of the New Year—Shiokatsuo, and ancient type of dried bonito. Even one’s first dream of the year is significant, but I think only in Japan does one hope it contains Mount Fuji, a hawk, or an eggplant.

By January 4th, people begin to go back to their normal routines, greeting coworkers and associates by saying akemashite-omedetō-gozaimasu, “Happy New Year,” and naturally, “For this year, too, please and thank you in advance,” kotoshi-mo, yoroshiku-onegaishimasu.

Sources:

https://maminyan.com/shogatsu/know/toshigamisama.html, https://www1.nhk.or.jp/kouhaku/, https://www.ntv.co.jp/gaki/, many years in Japan.

The post Japanese New Year — Gods, Symbolic Foods, and TV Extravaganzas first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

From Ancient Trade Empire through Subjugation, Devastation, to Today’s Blue Zone Fame

For 450 years, Okinawa was the seat of the refined Ryukyu Kingdom, a Chinese tributary and a pivotal hub of East Asian trade. Strategically positioned at the crossroads of Japan, China, and Southeast Asia, the Ryukyu Islands became a major entrepôt, attracting trading ships from Japan, Korea, and as far south as Java.

Renowned for their propriety, friendliness, and peaceful nature, the Ryukyu people developed a unique culture enriched by international exchanges, turning their island paradise into a repository of treasures from foreign lands. The history of Ryukyu, from its beginnings as a loose federation of chiefdoms to its eventual annexation by Japan, is a story of resilience, diplomacy, and poignant tragedy.

Okinawa Prefecture consists of 160 islands, 49 inhabited, stretching 400 kilometers (250 miles) from north to south and 1,000km (620 miles) from east to west. This area makes up the southern two-thirds of the former Ryukyu Kingdom, now known as the Ryukyu Archipelago, which extends from near Kyushu to off the northeastern coast of Taiwan.

The prefecture is divided into two main island chains: the central Okinawa Islands and the southern Sakishima Islands. The Sakishima Islands are further subdivided into smaller archipelagos: the Miyako Islands and the Yaeyama Islands. 

Okinawa Island, the largest in the chain, is 112km (70 miles ) long and 11km (7 miles) wide and covers an area of 1,199 square kilometers (463 square miles). Naha, the island’s largest city, is the capital of Okinawa Prefecture. Roughly 36% of the prefecture’s land area has been designated as natural parks by the Ministry of the Environment. On Okinawa Island, home to over 90% of the prefecture’s population, US military bases occupy 18% of the land representing two-thirds of the US military presence in Japan.

Geographically, the seas north of Okinawa Island are so densely dotted with islands that one can sail to Kyushu without losing sight of land. In contrast, traveling south requires navigating 290km (180 miles) of open seas to reach the Miyako Islands. This isolation contributed to the slower development of the Sakishima Islands, where a hunter-gatherer lifestyle persisted until the 15th century, long after agriculture and governance had advanced in the northern Ryukyus.

Trade’s Influence on Culture

Okinawa has absorbed cultural influences from its trading partners, as seen in its arts, crafts, music, and festivals. Bingata, a resist dyeing technique that dates back to the 14th century, emerged during intense foreign trade, blending Indian, Chinese, and Javanese dyeing methods.

Another textile is Kijoka bashofu, a lightweight, durable fabric made from banana fiber, recognized as an Important Intangible Cultural Property of Japan. The production process, from harvesting the banana fiber to weaving the fabric, is done by hand and requires over 40 trees to produce enough thread for a standard cloth roll. Natural plant dyes give the material soft colors, woven into simple geometric patterns.

The sanshin, a three-stringed instrument, is closely related to the Chinese sanxian and is the ancestor of the Japanese shamisen. Its body is often wrapped in imported python skin, as the skin of the native habu pit viper is too small for this purpose.

The oldest distilled alcoholic drink in Japan, awamori, is a well-known product of Okinawa.  Believed to be the predecessor of shochu, awamori’s distillation technique was introduced from Siam (modern-day Thailand) around 1470. The process involves soaking Indica Thai rice—more receptive to the koji mold than Japanese rice—in water, then fermenting it with black koji mold and yeast before a single distillation. Unlike sake, awamori is aged in clay pots, enhancing and deepening its flavors.

Okinawa’s festivals and performing arts also carry the imprint of cultural exchange. The Haari dragon boat race, held during Golden Week, has its roots in Chinese traditions. Classical dance once performed in the Ryukyu court to welcome guests, and the Eisa dance, performed during the August Bon Festival for the repose of ancestral spirits, are distinctly Okinawan. The Naha Great Tug-of-War, a festival that began 560 years ago during the Ryukyu Kingdom, continues as a popular event each October.

Kumidori, a form of dance-drama created in 1719 by Chōkun Tamagusuku, the dance magistrate of the Ryukyu Imperial Court, blends the performing arts of the islands and the Japanese mainland with Ryukyuan legends. Originally performed to entertain Chinese emissaries, Kumidori consists of spoken lines in Japanese and the old language used by the royal government, classical Ryukyuan music and singing, and Ryukyuan dance. With its intricate props and stage settings, Kumidori, like Noh Theater, was a refined art form for the upper classes. In 2010, UNESCO recognized Kumidori as an Intangible Cultural Heritage.

Early History and Archeological Findings

Archaeological evidence suggests that Homo sapiens inhabited many of the Ryukyu Islands during the latter Paleolithic period (36,000-10,000 BC). The oldest human remains in Japan, dating back to 28,000 BC, were uncovered at the Yamashita-cho and Sakitari Cave sites on Okinawa Island, along with the earliest shell fishhook and the shells of mitten crab claws and river snails. These finds offer insights into the diet of these ancient people, who were previously believed to rely primarily on seafood and wild boar.

Well-preserved human remains dating back 18,000 years have been found at the Minatogawa site in Yaese Town on Okinawa Island. This individual, estimated to have stood 150-156 cm tall (4ft 11in-5ft 1in), had a slender torso and sturdy legs, indicative of an active hunter-gatherer lifestyle. Horizontal markings on the bones suggest periods of malnutrition and disease during growth, while heavily worn teeth indicate a difficult life and poor diet. Interestingly, the skull shows similarities to those of the Wajak people of Indonesia.

While only a handful of islands in the world supported early human habitation during the Paleolithic period, evidence of Homo Sapiens has been found on at least eight of the Ryukyu islands. In the northern Ryukyus, the prehistoric period continued until the 10th century, with hunting and gathering as the primary means of subsistence.

Within what is now Okinawa Prefecture, two distinct ancient cultures emerged. The northern region, from Okinawa to Amami Oshima (in present-day Kagoshima Prefecture), was heavily influenced by the Japanese mainland’s Jomon culture with its rich pottery tradition.

In contrast, the southern Sakishima Islands show cultural ties to Taiwan and the Malay Archipelago. Curiously, the people of the Sakishima Islands briefly used pottery before abandoning it around the 5th century BC, only to reintroduce it in the 13th century. This unusual shift divides the history of the Sakishima Islands into two phases: the early Shimotabaru Era and the latter No-Pottery Era.

First, let us turn to the history of Okinawa Island, then we will travel down south and explore history as it unfolded on the Sakishima Islands.

History of Okinawa

Like the Shinto belief in kami, or deities, Okinawan tradition speaks of spiritual beings called kang that inhabit sacred groves, caves, and natural spaces. These kang, seen as links to the spiritual world, vary in rank, with some residing in the heavens and others protecting homes, fields, and wells. Ancestors often serve as intermediaries between humans and these spiritual beings, linking the living to the divine.

According to Okinawan mythology, the heavenly king instructed the divine siblings Shineri-kyu and Amami-kyu to create the land and populate it.Using materials from heaven, they formed the Ryukyu Islands.

Though Shineri-kyu and Amami-kyu lived together without intimacy, Amami-kyu became pregnant when touched by a passing wind. She bore three children: the first ruler, the first noro priestess, and the first peasant. Later, a “heavenly grandchild,” Tenteishi, fathered three sons and two daughters.

His eldest son became the first king of the Tenson dynasty of Ryukyuan kings; his second son became the ancestor of the aji (local lords); and the third son became the first farmer. His eldest daughter became the first kikoe okimi, or noro high priestess, while her younger sister became the first community noro priestess.

In this society, men held temporal power, while spiritual authority belonged to women. Today, though sacred groves known as utaki still dot the islands, few people continue the ancient rituals that once brought life to these silent places.

Noro Priestesses

In Korea and the surrounding islands, women held powerful roles as intermediaries between the spirit world and humanity, often serving as rulers. Their prominence led Chinese writers to refer to these regions as the “queen countries.”

In Okinawa, noro priestesses played a vital role in local governance until the 20th century. Like the chief priestess of Japan’s Grand Ise Shrine, who must be a member of the imperial family, Okinawa’s high priestess was a daughter or sister of the king at Shuri, serving as spiritual intercessor and advisor to the royal household until Okinawa’s annexation in 1879.

Fire was sacred in ancient Okinawan beliefs, and one of the noro’s key duties was to preserve her village’s fire. Three simple hearthstones formed the center of worship, representing each village’s ne-gami, or root-deity. Dressed in white and wearing a string of beads, the noro tended the hearth fires, maintained springs, cared for sacred groves, and conducted ritual ancestor worship. She also divined auspicious days for marriage, travel, agricultural activities, and burials.

Contact with China

In the 6th century, following years of upheaval, the Sui dynasty unified China and began extending its influence. Chinese ambassadors were sent to the distant borderlands, including the legendary “Land of Happy Immortals” said to lie in the Eastern Seas.

In 608, a Chinese expedition set sail for the Ryukyu Islands, hoping to find the fabled immortals. Though the commander did not discover the paradise he sought, he encountered the islands’ native population who he advised to recognize the sovereignty of the Sui Emperor. The language barrier caused a misunderstanding that escalated into violence. This led to a battle in which many islanders were captured and brought to China.

When the Sui emissaries returned to the Chinese imperial court with these Ryukyuan captives and treasures, Japan’s first envoy, Ono no Imoko, happened to be present. Upon seeing the prisoners, he mistakenly identified them as coming from the island of Yaku, modern-day Yakushima, just south of Kyushu.

While this initial encounter with China was marked by violence and misunderstanding, it was the first known contact with China and Japan, and laid the groundwork for future connections. Over time, the Ryukyu Islands would emerge as significant players in regional trade, balancing relations with both those nations.

Early Kings

According to the Chuzan Seikan, the first official history of the Ryukyu Kingdom compiled in 1650,  the Tenson dynasty that started with Tenteishi’s son ruled for an astonishing seventeen thousand years and had twenty-five kings. However, little is known about its history until the fall of the last Tenson king in the 12th century.

Agricultural Development and the Rise of Aji, 11th century

Rice and foxtail millet cultivation, introduced in northern Ryukyu during the Middle Yayoi period (300 BC–250 AD), spread to central Ryukyu by the 11th century, establishing an agricultural society. This transformation led to the rise of local chieftains, or aji, who ruled farming communities from gusuku, fortified castles. Over time, powerful aji expanded their territories, consolidated wealth, and commanded armies.

These powerful aji formed loose confederations, dividing Ryukyu into three regions: Hokuzan in the north, Chuzan in the center, and Nanzan in the south. Hokuzan, rich in farmland, was less prosperous than Chuzan and Nanzan, which thrived through trade with China, Korea, and Japan, importing ceramics and exporting goods such as sulfur and green turban shells, valued for their use in mother-of-pearl inlay.

The Legend of Minamoto no Tametomo—the Shunten Dynasty (1187-1259)

In what may be an anachronistic attempt to link Okinawa with Japan, legend tells of Minamoto no Tametomo, a brave warrior of the Minamoto clan, descendants of the Japanese imperial family. After being defeated by the Taira clan in 1156, Tametomo was exiled and came to Okinawa. He was welcomed by the lord of Ozato, who gave him his daughter in marriage. From this union, a boy named Shunten was born.

When the Minamoto rose again to challenge the Taira, Tametomo left Okinawa and again met with defeat. He is said to have become the first in Japan to commit seppuku, ritual suicide. His nephew, Minamoto no Yoritomo, later overthrew the Taira and became Japan’s first shogun, establishing the Kamakura shogunate. Meanwhile, remnants of the defeated Taira clan fled to the Ryukyu Islands.

Tametomo’s son, Shunten, grew in respect and admiration, so much that he was made Lord of Ozato when he was only 15. This was a time of turmoil on Okinawa, as local lords rebelled against the corrupt 24th Tenson king. Influenced by Chinese Confucian ideals, Okinawa believed monarchs were mandated by the heavens, with the royal line continuing as long as the ruler remained virtuous. Well, virtuous he was not, and this last Tenson king was soon assassinated by one of his retainers who declared himself king. In 1187, Shunten led a revolt against this usurper and became ruler of Okinawa, reigning for 51 years and developing the island’s political, economic, and social life from his gusuku at Urasoe.

After Shunten died in 1237, his son Shumba-Junki succeeded him, ruling benevolently for eleven years. He is credited with building the magnificent hilltop Shuri Castle and introducing the Japanese hiragana alphabet that became the official script for documents and poetry written in the Ryukyu language. Chinese characters continued to be used for trade.

Shumba-Junki’s eldest son, Gihon, became king in 1248. His reign was marked by devastating natural disasters and an epidemic that halved the population. Accepting responsibility in line with Chinese Confucian ideals, Gihon appointed Eiso as regent and disappeared into the island’s northern forests. The Shunten Dynasty came to a close when Eiso became king in 1235. 

Eiso Dynasty (1260-1354)

Eiso and his successors reorganized land distribution and taxation. They collected weapons, grain, and cloth as tribute, storing these resources in raised, thatched warehouses similar to those in Taiwan. Neighboring Kume, Kerama, and Iheya Islands were also incorporated into this system and were required to send their tribute to Shuri.

During Eiso’s reign, Buddhism is said to have reached Okinawa when a shipwrecked Buddhist priest washed ashore. With the king’s permission, the priest established a small temple, Gokurakuji, initiating Buddhist influence on the island.

In 1272, King Eiso received a demand from Kublai Khan to submit to Mongol rule and assist in his planned invasion of Japan. Eiso refused. Four years later, the Mongols returned with a show of force. Although the Okinawans successfully repelled them, 130 islanders were taken captive. The Mongols later attacked Japan, but both invasions were thwarted by typhoons, which the Japanese called kamikaze, or divine winds.

Eiso died in 1299, succeeded by his son and then his grandson. However, instability began when his 19-year-old great-grandson Tamagusuku ascended the throne in 1314.

The Beginning of the Sanzan Era (approximately 1320-1429)

Tamagusuku, unlike his capable forefathers, proved inept. Unable to command the loyalty and respect of his officials, disputes soon escalated into open rebellion that resulted in Okinawa’s division into three kingdoms, or sanzan.

The Lord of Ozato left Urasoe, seized control of southern Okinawa, and declared himself king of Nanzan, the Southern kingdom. The Lord of Nakijin fortified Nakijin Castle on the Motobu Peninsula and proclaimed himself king of Hokuzan, the Northern kingdom. This left Tamagusuku with only the central portion of Okinawa, which became the kingdom of Chuzan, Central Mountain, with its capital at Urasoe.

Hokuzan, though the largest kingdom, was the poorest and least populated, with limited trade connections. Nanzan and Chuzan were more prosperous, particularly Chuzan, which had thriving commerce with China and Southeast Asia through its port in Naha. Despite Chuzan’s initial economic advantage, Tamagusuku’s weakening authority led outlying islands to stop paying tribute, destabilizing the kingdom’s finances.

When Tamagusuku died in 1336, he left the throne to his 10-year-old son, plunging the court into turmoil, as the young king’s mother meddled in government affairs, abused her position, and eroded popular support for her son. Amidst this instability, a young man named Satto rose to prominence as the governor of the Urasoe district.

The Rise of Satto, King of Chuzan (reigned 1345-1395)—Official Trade with China Begins

In 1349, following the death of the young king of Chuzan, Satto seized control and proclaimed himself king. Satto’s rise to power coincided with momentous changes in East Asia. The Mongol Empire was in decline, and the seas were teeming with Japanese pirates attacking trading ships and coastal ports.

Meanwhile, in China, a new leader emerged—Hung Wu Ti. Born a peasant, he became a Buddhist monk, a beggar, and finally a bandit leader. He and his followers took city after city until, in 1356, he conquered the capital, Nanking. Two years later, he declared himself the first emperor of the Ming dynasty.

To the Chinese, any people outside their nation were inferior “barbarians” who must submit to the divinely mandated Chinese emperor. As such, in 1372, Chinese emissaries arrived in Okinawa to establish a tributary relationship, offering King Satto the opportunity to formalize trade with China. Satto sent his younger brother, Taiki, to Nanking with appropriate gifts. 

Taiki returned to Okinawa with a high-ranking imperial official who brought valuable books, textiles, ceramics, and ironware to present to King Satto. Most importantly, the official delivered a royal seal and documents granting Satto imperial authority over Chuzan. This began formal trade relations with China, which would endure for 500 years.

Formal trade with China brought prosperity and cultural exchange. Okinawa sent tribute goods such as sulfur and textiles, while the Chinese sent ceramics, ironware, and books. Young Okinawan nobles traveled to Nanking to study, as it was understood that “barbarian” nations had much to learn from China—and learn they did. The students became proficient in the Chinese language, Confucian classics, ethics, history, and poetry.

Both the tribute envoys and these students’ mastery of Chinese court etiquette earned them such distinction that, in later years, a Chinese emperor honored the king with a tablet inscribed with “The Land of Propriety,” acknowledging the correctness of the Ryukyu people’s elegant comportment.

In 1393, a community of Chinese craftsmen and clerks settled on Okinawa, sharing advanced shipbuilding and navigation techniques, and teaching them how to use the compass—an ancient Chinese invention. Alongside these practical skills, they shared the refined arts including the making of paper, ink, and writing brushes. Conversely, Okinawan traders settled at Chuang Chou, integrating influences from Arab, Indian, Thai, and Malay traders that later shaped their indigenous culture.

King Satto died in 1395, leaving the throne to his son, Bunei. However, in 1407, a young aji named Hashi led a rebellion, drove Bunei from Urasoe Castle, and took the throne. In deference to Chinese propriety, Hashi proclaimed his father the King of Chuzan and began reorganizing the administration according to Chinese models.

The First King of Ryukyu, Sho Hashi (Reigned 1422-1439)

Sho Hashi, initially ruling in his father’s stead, rose to power by uniting Okinawa’s three kingdoms—Hokuzan (1416), Nanzan (1429), and Chuzan—creating the Ryukyu Kingdom. The name “Chuzan” came to represent all of Okinawa Island, and the kingdom’s wealth grew through diplomacy and trade rather than military might. Hashi remodeled Shuri Castle after China’s Forbidden City, and it became the center of Ryukyuan political life and a symbol of the kingdom’s strength and connection to China for 450 years.

Despite this political unification, the countryside remained poor. Life for the average Okinawan was hard, leading communities to pool resources in skills and manpower, and developing a strong tradition of mutual aid within families and communities. Called yuimaru, this tradition of helping one another remains an enduring feature of Okinawan culture.

When Hashi’s father died in 1421, Hashi formally ascended the throne. After a year of mourning, he sent an envoy to Ming Emperor Zhu Di. Pleased with Hashi’s loyalty, Zhu Di bestowed upon him the family name “Sho” and the title “King of Ryukyu.” Along with these honors came luxurious gifts, lacquerware, embroidered ceremonial robes, and a great lacquered tablet upon which the Chinese characters for Chuzan were inscribed. This he displayed on Shuri Castle’s elaborate entry gate, where it hung until the 20th century.

Under Sho Hashi’s reign, Chuzan’s administration was overseen by Chinese-educated bureaucrats who adhered to Confucian ethics and political philosophy. As a result, Chuzan’s ties with China strengthened, and trade grew. Shuri, the capital, prospered from the flow of luxury goods purchased in the Indies and Southeast Asia, which were then traded through the port of Naha to China, Korea, and Japan. The savvy Okinawans, avoiding conflict and lacking military power, embraced diplomacy and polite interaction, which became hallmarks of their culture.

In 1439, a trading depot was established at Chuang Chou in Fukien Province, to channel trade to Peking. This depot, with its residences, reception halls, and warehouses, remained in continuous use until 1875. Okinawan students and clerks who studied Chinese language, culture, and institutions at Chuang Chou brought back valuable knowledge that influenced many aspects of life in Okinawa, from tomb architecture to textiles.

Naha became a bustling hub, with a tremendous variety of goods passing through its port. Glazed ceramics from China and earthenware from southern regions were not only used in Okinawa but also sent to Kyoto, where they were prized by tea masters and the shogun’s court. Exotic animals like parrots and peacocks, heavy Chinese brocades, medicinal herbs, coins, and Korean books and ceramics flowed through the city.

Japanese goods, including folding screens, lacquerware, swords, fans, and textiles, were exported to China and other southern ports via Okinawa. From Southeast Asia came pepper, incense, rhinoceros horn, iron, tin, ivory, sugar, and various curiosities gathered by traders.

While all this commerce brought fantastic wealth to Shuri, much of the island’s population remained in poverty. Inspired by the fine Chinese textiles they saw but could not afford, Okinawan peasants created bashofu, a fine gauze woven from the fibers of banana plants. Lightweight and breathable, bashofu proved to be an ideal material for the island’s hot and humid climate. Kasuri, an intricate dyed textile technique from the Indies, was adopted and refined, as well as tie-dying methods. 

Reflecting the intersection of cultures, it came to be that the quality and design of a man’s garments, and how his headgear was folded and wound, became indicators of social rank in Shuri. The British Captain Broughton observed in 1797 that the Okinawan coiffure and turbans were “in the Malay style.” Yet, following the Chinese “cap-rank” system, Okinawan headdresses became symbols of one’s rank within the court hierarchy and were governed by strict rules.

Along with the many goods traded, merchants returning from the Indies, Malaya, and China brought stringed instruments and dance forms, which the Okinawans modified and adapted to express their songs and poetry, further developing their extraordinary and cosmopolitan culture. Sho Hashi’s reign laid the foundation for a unified, culturally vibrant Ryukyu Kingdom.

Sho Shin, “The Golden Years of Chuzan” (1477-1527)

Sho Hashi’s successors faced challenges from local lords, or aji, who still wielded considerable power in their regions. Frequent uprisings threatened the stability of the kingdom. However, when Sho Shin ascended the throne in 1477, he implemented a clever strategy to weaken the ajis’ influence. He ordered that all aji live within the grounds of Shuri Castle, where they enjoyed luxurious lives under the watchful eye of the court. Once the aji were comfortably settled, Sho Shin confiscated their weapons, effectively quelling potential uprisings and consolidating centralized control.

To consolidate religious authority, Sho Shin established the position of kikoe-ogimi, or high priestess of the Ryukyu Kingdom. This role was to be filled exclusively by a member of the royal family, strengthening the central power of the monarchy.

Culturally, Sho Shin’s reign saw the compilation of the Omoro Soshi, the first collection of traditional Ryukyuan poetry and songs. Written in hiragana, it reflected the fusion of indigenous traditions and Chinese cultural influences that characterized Ryukyu’s unique identity. 

Through the reigns of Sho Hashi and Sho Shin, the Ryukyu Kingdom evolved from a fragmented island society into a powerful and culturally rich nation, with the magnificent Shuri Castle as its political and cultural center.

New Agricultural Products

In 1606, an Okinawan sailor brought sweet potatoes back from China and planted them in his yard, unwittingly altering the course of economic development. Within 15 years, this hardy, high-yield crop became a staple food source across the Ryukyu Islands.

In 1623, another important crop entered Okinawa when an envoy to China returned with sugar cane slips which led to the establishment of lucrative sugar production. Sugar—a highly sought-after luxury item—fueled trade with the Satsuma domain of southern Kyushu and met growing demand in the Japanese market. These two crops, sweet potatoes and sugar cane, completely transformed the Kingdom’s agricultural economy.

The Rise of the “Lords of the Southern Islands”—Shimadzu Rule (1609-1872)

When Shunten was just a child in the late 12th century, Japan’s first shogun, Minamoto no Yoritomo, set up his stronghold in far-away Kamakura. He granted Shimadzu Tadahisa the title “Lord of Satsuma” in southern Kyushu, along with the honorary title “Lord of the Southern Islands.” Although this title was largely forgotten for generations, it resurfaced with weighty consequences in the early 17th century.

In 1592, Toyotomi Hideyoshi commanded the Ryukyu King to send troops to support his invasion of Korea and Ming China. Defying this order, the Ryukyu King not only refused but secretly warned the Ming emperor of Hideyoshi’s plans—a move that won him no favor in Japan.

Hideyoshi’s invasion was the last straw for the Ming. In the preceding centuries, Japanese pirates had terrorized the Chinese coastline, and rioting samurai had destroyed the bustling port of Ningpo. In response, the Ming emperor severed formal relations, ending Japan’s trade with their wealthy neighbor.

When Tokugawa Ieyasu unified Japan and became shogun in 1603, he recognized Ryukyu’s strategic importance. The kingdom could serve as both a buffer against Western powers, particularly the Spanish who had seized the Philippines in 1571, and as a covert channel for trade with the Ming.

In 1609, Ieyasu’s son, Tokugawa Hidetaka, ordered the Shimadzu clan of Satsuma to conquer the Ryukyu Kingdom. The peace-loving islanders were no match for the battle-hardened Shimadzu forces, armed with Western matchlock muskets. Shuri Castle was captured within two months, and King Sho Nei was taken in chains to Satsuma, present-day Kagoshima.

From that time onward, the Ryukyu Islands were a possession of the Satsuma domain, truly making the Shimadzu clan the “Lords of the Southern Islands.” However, to facilitate trade with the Ming, the Shimadzu orchestrated a façade of independence. King Sho Nei was restored to his throne, and Ryukyu continued to send tribute to the Ming court as if nothing had changed. But unlike in the kingdom’s golden years, the bulk of Ryukyu’s wealth now flowed into Satsuma’s coffers.

Preserving Culture Under Subjugation

To prevent the Chinese from discovering the Ryukyu Kingdom’s subjugation, the Shimadzu clan enforced strict measures to hide any evidence of Japanese control. All Japanese writing was carefully concealed, and if a Satsuma man was addressed in Japanese by a Chinese official, he had to feign ignorance. The Ryukyu people were also prohibited from adopting Japanese names, clothing, or customs—a policy that, ironically, helped preserve Ryukyuan culture from assimilation.

Under Shimadzu rule, the influence of Chinese culture flourished in Okinawa. New traditions emerged, such as ishigantō stones placed at T-junctions to ward off evil spirits, the construction of kamekō-baka turtleback family crypts, and the placing of shīsā guardian lions on either side of the entrances to residences. From the Meiji Era (1868-1912), shīsā have adorned rooftops as well.

While the Shimadzu profited greatly from trade with China, they also placed heavy demands on the Ryukyu Kingdom, including the requirement to send regular embassies to Edo, further straining the kingdom’s resources. The Shimadzu levied heavy taxes on the Ryukyu government, which passed these burdens onto the distant Sakishima Islands by implementing a poll tax.

Instituted in 1638 and lasting until 1903, the pole tax required all adults between ages 15 and 50 to pay a levy in rice and cloth, regardless of their ability to produce. The amount collected was based on the population of each village, disproportionately affecting farmers. To prevent organized resistance, the kingdom forbade the migration of islanders.

The Shimadzu clan also outlawed weapons, which some scholars believe contributed to the development of karate as a martial art. Originally practiced in secret as a form of self-defense, karate traces its roots to Chinese ti, an ancient form of self-defense that emerged when contact with China brought martial arts to Okinawa. During King Sho Shin’s reign, ti was practiced by aji within Shuri Castle.

The word “ti” is written with the Japanese character for “hand,” the same character used in the “te” of “kara-te,” which means “empty hand.” Karate emphasizes respect, self-discipline, self-control, and the principle of avoiding conflict, qualities easily understood within the context of Ryukyu’s history and culture.

Social Hierarchy and Economic Adjustments

A rigid class system was imposed in the Ryukyu Kingdom. Commoners were prohibited from wearing silk or carrying umbrellas, while aristocrats were barred from farming or craftsmanship. The top noblemen in Shuri occupied the most lucrative positions in government administration and had access to the best education and cultural opportunities. Meanwhile, the peasantry struggled to survive through subsistence agriculture.

As revenue from international trade fed the Shimadzu treasury, the kingdom turned to new sources of income, such as the production and export of unrefined sugar and its newest product, turmeric. In 1667, a smithy was established in each district, and two years later, an improved cane-crushing machine was developed to boost sugar production. Additional land was cleared and cultivated for these new crops. However, because sugar production for export proved more profitable than growing sweet potatoes and grains for local consumption, farmers switched to growing sugar, and the kingdom’s reserve of storable food gradually dwindled.

To address this imbalance, the government mandated a cap of about 678 hectares (1,675 acres) for sugarcane cultivation, aiming to redirect land back to food production. Saltworks were developed, a tea commissioner’s office was established to supervise tea production, and forest management was introduced. Despite these measures, natural disasters often undermined food security, leaving the kingdom vulnerable to famine.

In tandem with these economic changes, the Ryukyu government sought to promote Confucianism, a philosophy that faced resistance from the kingdom’s traditional noro priestesses. In 1667, the rank of the chief noro priestess was downgraded to a status below that of the queen and the prime minister. The role of her assistant, the priestess responsible for divination, was abolished.

Additionally, the centuries-old tradition of the king visiting major noro religious shrines on Kudaka Island was replaced with a new custom where the king’s son offered incense annually before the tablets of Confucius.

Sai On’s Reforms: Revitalizing the Ryukyu Islands (in office 1712–1762)

After a decade of fires, famines, earthquakes, and calamitous storms at the beginning of the 18th century, Okinawa desperately struggled for economic survival. Onto this stage stepped Sai On, a Chinese-educated advisor to the king, under whose leadership the islands achieved unprecedented levels of production and growth.

Sai On encouraged “Dutch learning”—the study of Western books concerning science, medicine, and mechanical arts. He appointed Satsuma-trained doctors to serve at Shuri Castle and the Sakishima Islands, to oversee public health and care for shipwrecked sailors.

He also championed the arts and crafts, granting privileges and stipends to outstanding artists and craftsmen, be they dancers, musicians, or comb makers. He extended new honors to the elderly and elevated creative pursuits across all classes.

Sai On improved administration by dispatching officers to 35 districts to govern the populace and promote tea and plantain cultivation, the latter a valuable source of bashofu textile fiber. He initiated environmental reforms, constructing new irrigation canals and implementing conservation and reforestation projects.

To preserve old-growth trees, Sai On banned the construction of dugout canoes and discouraged the felling of smaller trees essential for protecting watersheds on steep slopes. Villagers were taught to plant windbreaks along the shore and trees on hillsides to reduce erosion caused by strong winds and heavy rain.

Under Sai On’s guidance, metal casting techniques were improved, making common tools more efficient. Kilns were built using coral and shells to produce building materials, and ink sticks and paper production expanded. He also established grain storage warehouses and honored farmers who harvested two sweet potato crops annually. Unfortunately, after Sai On died in 1791, no one arose to fill his shoes, and the progress he had achieved was gradually lost.  

Western Encounters and the Opening of Ryukyu—the 19th Century

The 19th century brought drastic changes to the Ryukyu Kingdom as Western ships increasingly frequented its waters and anchored in its ports. Western seamen were inevitably received with the elaborate formality that the Okinawans considered a hallmark of their culture. Visitors noted the absence of arms and violence, the dignity, courtesy, and friendliness of all classes, the intelligence and cultivated manners of the aristocracy, and the honesty and lack of theft throughout the islands.

In 1853, on his way to Edo (Tokyo), US Navy Commodore Matthew Perry anchored at Naha harbor and insisted on visiting the Royal Palace at Shuri Castle. The Okinawans tried to dissuade him; the king was a young boy, and his accession had yet to be confirmed by the Chinese Emperor, while the queen dowager was ill and could not be seen. The regent politely invited Perry to dine at his residence instead, but Perry dismissed the offer. For weeks, while Perry stayed on his ship, a contingent of his men took up residence in a community center despite the Okinawans’ refusal to grant them permission.

Eventually, Perry, carried in a colorful palanquin and accompanied by some 200 men, including artillery units and a marching band, approached Shuri Castle with great pomp and ceremony. Upon reaching the castle, the guards—likely intimidated by the show of force—opened the gates, allowing Perry’s men to triumphantly enter the deserted castle.

Rooms were hastily prepared. The Americans sat along one wall, facing the regent, and his officials on the other. The boy king and his mother never appeared. After this tense and awkward encounter, the regent once again invited Perry to dine at his residence, and this time, Perry accepted. He and his men were treated to a 12-course feast, and when they departed two hours later, the Okinawans were much relieved.

Perry left Okinawa temporarily to claim the Bonin Islands for the United States. Upon his return, he found that the regent was no longer in power. Perry invited the new regent to dine with him in his quarters on his ship, which he accepted. Despite being instructed by President Millard Fillmore to “act only with the consent of the natives,” Perry resorted to threats when his request for a building to store coal was denied. He declared that he and 200 of his men would seize Shuri Castle. The Okinawans, facing no viable alternative, acquiesced.

In 1864, the Ryukyuan King Sho Tai sought formal investiture from China, culminating in the final ceremonial visit of Chinese envoys after 500 years of tradition. Meanwhile, dramatic change loomed in Japan. In 1867, the Meiji Emperor ascended the throne, ending 264 years of Tokugawa shogunate rule. With the dawn of the Meiji Era in 1868, Japan began its rapid modernization and expansion, setting its sights on consolidating control over neighboring territories, including the once-independent Ryukyu Kingdom.

The Assimilation of the Ryukyu Kingdom, the Meiji Era (1868-1912)

The Meiji era saw sweeping modernization as Japan adopted Western industrial, military, and educational. The country underwent significant social, political, and economic changes, including the establishment of a constitutional government, the expansion of infrastructure, and a shift from an agrarian to an industrial economy. Feudal domains were replaced with prefectures, and daimyo gave way to governors.

Amid this transformation, Japan sought to fully integrate the Ryukyu Kingdom. After Ryukyu was declared a feudal domain in 1871, the islands from Yoron to Kyushu were transferred to Kagoshima Prefecture. In 1879, Okinawa and the southern Ryukyu Islands were formally annexed, becoming Okinawa Prefecture.

Mainland Japanese bureaucrats were sent to take up government positions, and Ryukyu’s last king, Sho Tai, was ordered to Tokyo. For the first time in 500 years, Shuri Castle ceased to be the seat of authority and the symbol of Ryukyuan nationhood as the king reluctantly left his palace, walking solemnly through the Gate of National Learning. The acting governor, appointed from Tokyo, would now operate from Naha.

Assimilation policies followed. Japanese was made the standard language, speaking local dialects was banned, and the noro priestesses were compelled to conform to the national religion, Shinto. Okinawan schools adopted the standard Japanese curriculum. Students caught speaking the Ryukyu language were publicly shamed. Even civil servants were fined if they were caught speaking the Ryukyu language at work. Okinawans faced growing pressure to prove their “Japaneseness,” leading to a divide in attitudes toward assimilation. Some resented what they saw as the colonization of their homeland, while others welcomed it as a path to modernity and prosperity.

Okinawans who moved to mainland Japan faced discrimination and often found it necessary to hide their roots. On the mainland, they were typically viewed as unsophisticated country folk, while Okinawans, in turn, looked upon the inhabitants of the Sakishima Islands as even more “backward.” The Sakishima Islanders were treated as lesser subjects, still carrying the burden of the poll tax and also now being used as penal colonies for Okinawan convicts.

Sugar production expanded to meet growing Japanese demand, often at the expense of farmland previously used for food crops. This shift made Okinawans dependent on an export market over which they had no control. Sugar plantations expanded as far as the Sakishima Islands.

The granting of suffrage highlighted inequalities. Okinawan men gained the right to vote in 1912, but Sakishima Islanders had to wait until 1919. Unlike regions like Taiwan or Hokkaido, Okinawa lacked resources and attracted few settlers; by the end of the Meiji era, only 6,000 Japanese expatriates lived there—roughly 1% of Okinawa’s population—reflecting Okinawa’s marginal status within the empire.

The Militarization of Okinawa

From the Imperial Army’s perspective, the Ryukyu Islands were a critical link between Formosa (the Japanese colony of Taiwan) and mainland Japan. Yet, Okinawans were considered unfit for military service as the average adult male did not meet the minimum height and weight requirements. The older generation vehemently opposed militarization, fearing it would invite attacks. Unlike the samurai of the mainland, Okinawans had no history of close combat; they were peace-loving traders and experts in diplomacy, not warriors.

However, after Japan’s victory in the Russo-Japanese War of 1905, Okinawans began to be enlisted. Fitness programs were implemented throughout the islands, and towns with the most conscripts were honored. Military leaders sought to instill a fanatic spirit in the islanders to compensate for their small stature.

Over time, civilians were being “voluntarily” compelled to contribute time, labor, and money to support military preparations. Children were subjected to intense propaganda, designed to inspire admiration for Japanese soldiers’ heroic deeds, especially after the invasion of China in 1931. Like children throughout Japan, the youths of Okinawa were being prepared to do their utmost for the Emperor.

As the Ryukyu Islands formed a defensive barrier for the Japanese mainland, five airfields were built on the flat, infertile fields of Miyako Island in the south. By WWII’s end, three divisions of Japanese soldiers—outnumbering the local population—were stationed there. The islanders, unable to communicate with these mainland soldiers, were forced to bow to every military figure and endure privation as the occupying forces requisitioned their meager resources.

Following the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, Imperial Japanese forces swept across Southeast Asia, pushing to the borders of India and seizing islands throughout the South Pacific. Centered in their puppet state of Manchukuo in northeast China, The Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere was beginning to take shape, with the Japanese envisioning a future where the region would thrive under their so-called “benevolent” leadership. Fueled by a belief in their racial purity, fighting spirit, and superior culture, the Japanese were convinced of their destined success. Every subject was prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for the emperor, assured that their cause was invincible.

Steeped in propaganda and pro-government censored media, it was hard for the public to understand the extent of Japan’s 1942 defeat at Midway, then at Guadalcanal and Saipan. In Tokyo, some realized that Japan had overextended itself; the economy could not sustain a prolonged conflict, and the nation’s industrial base was inadequate for the demands of a long war. Additionally, Army leaders had grossly underestimated the strength of the US military.

As the war dragged on, Japan’s Navy suffered a disastrous defeat at Leyte Gulf in 1944. Back home, as firebombing devastated over 50 Japanese cities, the leadership faced a dire choice: surrender and preserve the mainland or resist and risk annihilation.

In spite of the increasing inevitability of defeat, Japan’s military leaders clung to the belief that the “national spirit” would prevail over material deficiencies and that kamikaze, or divine winds, would once again save Japan from its enemies. In this desperate gamble, they chose to offer Okinawa as a sacrificial pawn, hoping to buy time to strengthen Japan’s mainland defenses.

The Battle of Okinawa

By February 1944, as Allied forces approached Japan, Okinawa lay in the path of invasion. Prefectural officers sent their families to safety, Martial Law was declared, and those with the means fled to Formosa or Kyushu. Despite the looming threat, Tokyo made no effort to prepare the local population for the inevitable attack, viewing Okinawa as a distant buffer to delay the enemy.

Civilians were conscripted to construct build defenses, homes were seized by soldiers, and centuries-old pines that once lined Okinawa’s highways were stripped away. In a bid to save Ryukyu’s treasures, the Custodian of Treasures of the Sho family gathered ancient crowns, rare Chinese musical instruments, royal portraits, robes of state, ceramics, jewelry, and invaluable texts and hid them within the strongholds of Shuri Castle. However, within weeks, the custodian’s estate was consumed by fire, and the Imperial Army occupied the castle grounds.

On April 1, 1945, American forces landed near Kadena, about a third of the way up Okinawa Island. To their surprise, they faced little resistance as they rapidly advanced to the eastern shore, splitting the island. Civilians fled north, unprotected and terrified by Imperial propaganda about American atrocities. By May 5, the northern part of Okinawa had fallen under American control. 

Meanwhile, the top-ranking Imperial officer, General Ushijima, had made his headquarters behind the ancient, strong walls of Shuri Castle. Concentrating his troops behind a large escarpment that crossed the island between Shuri and Kadena, his strategy was to draw the American forces under these craggy heights, unleash a powerful crossfire, and hold off the Americans until reinforcements could arrive from Japan.

The war intensified, with kamikaze suicide bombers from Kyushu attacking the American fleet, causing significant damage but failing to disrupt the fleet’s operations. Onshore, the American forces approached General Ushijima’s defenses, leading to one of the heaviest artillery battles of the war. Yet, despite the relentless bombardment, Shuri Castle’s 500-year-old walls held firm.

On May 24, the battleship USS Mississippi began a massive barrage against the castle walls. For three days, the bombardment continued until the once-magnificent ancient castle was reduced to ruins, its formidable walls crumbled into rubble.

On May 31, General Ushijima withdrew from his shelter in the caves beneath Shuri to a cave on the southern coast. Although the retreating Japanese fought with unparalleled ferocity from cave to cave, organization and discipline had disintegrated. The Imperial forces chose death over surrender but with utter disregard for the civilians trapped among them.

Terrified locals, including the wounded and sick, sought refuge in caves, but these sanctuaries offered little safety. In many instances, civilians were driven out into the open, caught in the crossfire as Imperial troops took over the caves. Civilians were forced to share their caves with soldiers who used them as firing positions, drawing American fire.

Naha fell to the US forces on June 13. Early in the morning of June 21, Lieutenant General Ushijima and his chief of staff, facing the humiliation of defeat, went to the ledges overlooking the southern sea, saluted the emperor in distant Tokyo, and took their own lives.

War’s Heart-wrenching Toll on Okinawan Civilians

The Battle of Okinawa inflicted unparalleled suffering on its civilian population, with casualties exceeding those of both American and Japanese forces combined. Under Imperial Japanese indoctrination, Okinawans were taught that it was more honorable to die than face the “shame” of capture. Reinforcing this fatalistic mindset, civilians were often given two grenades—one to kill the enemy and the other to take their own lives.

Strict military control and relentless propaganda fostered an atmosphere of fear. Anyone caught speaking English or even using local dialects was executed for suspected espionage. Those urging surrender were summarily killed. Civilians were warned of horrific consequences if captured, including torture, rape, and execution. As the American soldiers drew near, these terrifying warnings triggered mass suicides across Okinawa. Imperial soldiers instructed civilians to avoid capture at all costs, with mothers urged to kill their children and then themselves rather than fall into enemy hands.

In the final, bloody months of World War II, the islanders faced unimaginable horror. The sounds of hand grenades exploding and people screaming echoed through the trees. Families, fearing capture, turned on each other when grenades failed to detonate. In their desperation, they resorted to strangling one another, bludgeoning loved ones to death with farming tools, or hanging themselves. Many of the victims in these horrific acts were children. There are accounts of parents even chasing after their fleeing children to carry out the dreadful act.

The tragic impact of this indoctrination is captured in survivor accounts, such as that of Mr. Komine. His family, resigned to their fate as American forces landed, formed a circle to be executed by his father. Mr. Komine watched in horror as his father bludgeoned his mother and siblings, before he was stuck. After the killings, his father hanged himself from a tree. Against all odds, Mr. Komine was rescued by US troops and survived. 

Despite the widespread fear, many civilians hiding in caves were eventually driven by hunger or desperation to emerge. Bracing for poison or brutal treatment, they were astonished to be given water, food, and medical care by the Americans.

The staggering toll of the battle is commemorated at the Okinawa Prefectural Peace Memorial Museum on the Cornerstone of Peace monument, which lists 242,046 names as of 2023. This includes 149,634 Okinawans, 77,823 Imperial Japanese soldiers, 14,010 Americans, 381 South Koreans, 82 North Koreans, 82 from the United Kingdom, and 34 Taiwanese.

Okinawa remained under US occupation after World War II until the prefecture was returned to Japan in 1972. First governed by the Military Government of the Ryukyu Islands from 1945 to 1950, and then by the Civil Administration of the Ryukyu Islands. It remains the US military’s main stronghold in East Asia.

The Sakishima Islands

The Miyako Islands 

• Ikema Island
• Irabu Island
• Kurima Island
• Miyako Island
• Ōgami Island
• Shimoji Island
• Tarama Island
• Minna Island 

The Yaeyama Islands

• Ishigaki Island
• Aragusuku Island
• Hateruma Island
• Iriomote Island
• Kohama Island 
• Kuroshima Island
• Taketomi Island
• Yubu Island
• Yonaguni Island

Sakishima Early History

Shimotabaru era (2,500 to 500 BC)

Archaeological sites across the Sakishima Islands provide windows into early human activity, one of the most remarkable being the Shirahosaonetabaru site on the grounds of Ishigaki Airport. Dating back to 25,000 BC, it holds Japan’s oldest recognized tomb, where bodies were left exposed to the elements rather than buried. Bones of deer, wild boar, and other animals found at the site indicate they were part of the early diet. DNA analysis links these early inhabitants to southern China and Vietnam, with cultural ties to Indonesia and Melanesia evident in agriculture, fishing, and plank-built boats.

Artifacts such as pottery and stone tools, dating back as early as 8,000 BC, highlight Sakishima’s unique culture, distinct from those of Okinawa and Taiwan. Human remains and artifacts from 2,500-1,500 BC were discovered at 15 sites across the islands. These include earthenware, stone axes, polished stones, drills, and shell tools, which show similarities to those from southern China and Taiwan, suggesting cultural interchange.

The No-Pottery Era (500 BC-about 1250 AD) and International Trade

From around 500 BC to the 13th century, the Sakishima Islands experienced a “non-pottery period,” a rare culture that didn’t produce pottery. Instead, people relied on stone furnaces to steam food, made axes from giant clam shells, and crafted disc-shaped shell pendants. These artifacts bear a striking resemblance to those found in Oceania and the Philippines, hinting at broader cultural connections.

Even with their simple hunter-gatherer lifestyle, trade with mainland China had already begun, evidenced by Tang dynasty (618–907) coins found on Iriomote and Ishigaki Islands. Trade introducing Chinese white porcelain, soapstone cauldrons, and kamuiyaki stoneware from the northern Ryukyus, brought an end to the No-Pottery Era. The islanders transitioned to agriculture, cultivating grains, raising cattle, and producing their own pottery. The large amounts of southern Chinese porcelain from the 13th–14th centuries, absent in mainland Japan and Okinawa, underscore the separateness of Sakishima trade routes.

Artifacts from sites like the Omarihama shell mound on Hateruma Island reveal foreign influence, including Chinese jade-rimmed porcelain bowls, Nagasaki-made stone pots (so valuable that four were worth as much as one cow), and kamuiyaki, illustrate Sakishima’s expanding trade connections.

Agriculture, Trade, and Social Dynamics—the Gusuku Period (13th to 16th centuries)

Between the 12th and 14th centuries, agriculture became central to life on the Sakishima Islands, with foxtail millet, barley, and wheat becoming their staple crops. By 1390, the Sakishima lord began sending tribute to King Satto on Okinawa, as the islands grew in importance as way-stations for trading ships en route to Southeast Asia and the East Indies. 

Despite their role in trade, the Sakishima Islanders lagged technologically. In the 14th century, they had limited access to metal tools, minimal shipbuilding knowledge, and relied on rudimentary farming techniques. This technological disparity left them about two centuries behind Okinawa Island, perhaps contributing to the traditionally condescending attitude of Okinawans toward the Sakishima people. However, by the late 14th century, the Sakishima Islands began transitioning from their prehistoric era to a period of development.

The reign of Sho Hashi (1422-1439) ushered in an age of prosperity. Miyako and Yaeyama became vital ports for ships navigating between Naha and the Indies, following routes that kept vessels within sight of land. Historical records reflect the region’s growing stability and reputation. A Korean account from 1477 describes Yonaguni Island as peaceful, free from theft and conflict, where shipwrecked Koreans found refuge and kindness.

In the late 15th century, a long-standing rivalry between Miyako and Yaeyama escalated when Akahachi, the powerful chief of Yaeyama, plotted to invade Miyako. Nakasone Toyomioya, Miyako’s leader, launched a preemptive invasion, defeated Akahachi and continued to Yonaguni Island, where he overpowered the local chieftain, Untura, and took his daughter as a prize.

Upon returning to Miyako, Nakasone faced a new and greater threat: a 3,000-man force sent by Chuzan king Sho Shin to subjugate Miyako. Realizing the futility of resistance, Nakasone negotiated a peaceful surrender that spared his people from destruction.

In recognition of his leadership, Sho Shin appointed him Miyako’s chieftain, and by 1510, all the Sakishima Islands were under Chuzan control. Today, Nakasone is honored as a local hero, revered at the principal shrine on Miyako for his wisdom and leadership in navigating both war and peace. In 1532, Shuri consolidated its authority by appointing a royal magistrate as governor of Miyako.

In the late 16th century, Miyako’s status rose after a local man’s skillful recovery of a wrecked Chinese ship earned praise from the Chinese court. The emperor sent a commendation to the king at Shuri, who rewarded the man with land and a noble title. In gratitude, the man’s wife developed a refined weaving technique, producing what became known as Miyako Jofu, sending it as a gift to the Shuri court in 1584.

The exquisite Miyako Jofu quickly became a prized export, rivaling sugar—introduced around 1597—as a key commodity. Together with mother-of-pearl inlay shells, these goods became essential tax items demanded by Shuri court, which exported them to Satsuma for wider distribution throughout Japan.

Miyako sailors gained a reputation for being the most skilled and resilient, bolstering Miyako’s role in communication and trade with China. While Miyako thrived during this period, the Yaeyama Islands experienced slower development.

The Poll Tax and the Sakishima Agreement

Three decades after the Satsuma clan invaded the Ryukyu Kingdom, the Ryukyu government imposed a harsh poll tax on the Sakishima islanders. Unlike Japan’s tribute system based on land area, the Ryukyu poll tax targeted individuals aged 15 to 50, requiring contributions of rice or cloth regardless of physical ability or means. Although originally assessed when individuals reached a height of 143 cm, marked by “poll tax stones,” the tax was later applied universally regardless of height, even to the disabled and pregnant women. Payments were expected even after natural disasters, plunging communities into perpetual hardship.

The burden of the poll tax led to disturbing consequences: the elderly who could no longer work were sometimes killed or driven to suicide, while pregnant women, fearing that increasing the population would worsen their family’s tax burden, sometimes threw themselves from cliffs. Yonaguni Island’s Kuburabari Cliff is infamous as a site from which desperate women leaped to their deaths.

Adding insult to injury, in 1880, Japan proposed ceding the Sakishima Islands to China in exchange for trade concessions and retaining the northern Ryukyu Islands. The agreement, signed on October 31, completely ignored the views of the islanders. However, suspicion among Chinese officials stalled ratification, and Japan, frustrated by delays, ultimately withdrew the offer, keeping the islands under its control.

The Sakishima people endured relentless external pressures, from oppressive domestic policies to international power plays, with scant regard for their well-being or sovereignty. The trend would continue.

Iriomote Island

Although 80% of Iriomote is mountainous, the island is blessed with abundant fresh water, making it ideal for rice cultivation. It is a natural haven for diverse wildlife, including the critically endangered Iriomote Wildcat, a leopard subspecies with only about 100 remaining. Lucky visitors might glimpse one hunting at dusk or early morning along the northern coast. Wild boar roam the mountains, and cattle graze on the island’s pastures, but despite its natural resources, Iriomote has been slow to develop, and its people have faced dire hardships.

It is not known when humans first settled on Iriomote Island, but shell middens along the coast indicate the presence of small hunter-gatherer communities in the 5th century. These early inhabitants relied on the island’s rich natural resources, using stone chisels, crafting beads from stones, and making accessories from shells, typical of the southern region. By the late 15th century, Korean castaways described the islanders as wearing stone bead necklaces and black wooden nose rings, with blacksmiths producing only small plows for garden tilling, reflecting a simple society with no mention of powerful overlords.

This changed when Nakasone Toyomioya from Miyako Island invaded, establishing the first powerful clan on Iriomote. Under his influence, agricultural practices on Iriomote gradually improved. However, the island soon came under the control of the Ryukyu Kingdom, which established trading rights and consolidated its authority over the island.

Subjugated Iriomote

Under Ryukyu government officials, along with the egregious poll tax, a structured administration was established that laid the groundwork for agricultural development. Recognizing Iriomote’s potential for rice cultivation with its numerous rivers and fertile lowlands, the government forcibly relocated people from surrounding islands to develop paddies. Others came voluntarily, hoping to grow rice to meet their tax burdens. Traces of these early settlements remain along the island’s southern coast.

Settlers, however, faced adversities. Malaria outbreaks decimated entire communities, triggering a cycle of forced relocations to replace the dead—only for the new arrivals to meet the same fate. This tragic pattern persisted for centuries.

A visit to the remnants of these rice fields reveals the harsh conditions settlers endured. Most were small plots cleared along narrow rivers and encircled by boar fences. While some settlers were fortunate enough to receive already developed paddies, many were forced to clear and prepare the fields themselves. All this, while grappling with the debilitating effects of malaria.

The brutal forced labor and malaria-related suffering on Iriomote Island continued until the mid-Meiji Era, when a successful liberation movement on Miyako Island ended the abuses there, eventually bringing about the emancipation of the people of Yaeyama.  A samurai visiting from Aomori documented the ruination caused by malaria. His records mention villages that have since disappeared, their populations entirely wiped out. Despite these grim conditions, mainland Japanese authorities were about to thrust a new ordeal upon the islanders—coal mining. 

But before that, they were hit with disaster.

The Great Tsunami of 1771

On April 24, 1771, the day began like any other for the inhabitants of the Sakishima islands. However, at 8:00 AM the quiet was shattered by a thunderous noise from the east and a violent shaking of the ground. The tide ebbed to the reef, and ominous towering waves loomed like dark clouds before surging toward the islands.

A 7.4-magnitude earthquake had struck 40 kilometers (25 miles) east of Ishigaki Island, triggering waves over 30 meters high (98 feet) that inundated Ishigaki, flooding 40% of the island, and burying the coastline in sand and coral debris. Across the Sakishima Islands, wave heights ranged from 7 to 15 meters (23-50 feet), with Miyako Island hit by three surges as high as 10 meters (33 feet).

The tsunami claimed over 12,000 lives. In the Yaeyama archipelago, 9,313 people—32% of its inhabitants—lost their lives, and 2,000 houses were destroyed. On Miyako Island, four villages were destroyed, and 2,548 people perished. On Ishigaki, 48% of the population died.

Beyond the immediate loss of life and homes, the tsunami brought long-term suffering. Salinified farmland, contaminated water, and destroyed livestock led to famine lasting 80 years, compounded by outbreaks of dysentery, malaria, and plagues of blood-sucking flies. Despite these hardships, the islanders struggled to rebuild their lives while continuing to bear the heavy burden of the poll tax.

Today, the Bari Stone on eastern Ishigaki Island is a stark reminder of this catastrophe. This massive 216-ton coral boulder, measuring 9x7x4 meters (30x23x13 feet), was carried inland by the tsunami and is recognized as the world’s largest displaced coral boulder.

Iriomote Coal Mining

The Ryukyuan government, under Shimadzu clan rule, concealed the presence of valuable coal deposits on Iriomote Island. They feared that if the Shimadzu learned about the coal, they would exploit the mines and deprive the Ryukyu government of its rightful resources. In 1854, they even ordered trees planted around the mines to hide their location. However, their efforts were undone when some inhabitants of Ishigaki Island sold the secret to Satsuma merchants, opening the door to mainland mining companies.

When Okinawa became a Japanese prefecture in 1879, coal mining on Iriomote accelerated under the Meiji government. Mitsui Bussan Company began operations, using over 100 prisoners from Okinawa island to keep labor costs low and sidestep the risks posed by malaria. This allowed coal production to continue without disrupting poll tax collection, which continued to be paid in goods produced by the islanders.

Mining conditions were harsh and dangerous. Workers, lured by promises of abundant fruit and an easy life, were met with grueling labor and rampant malaria. Many attempted to escape, but few succeeded. A major malaria outbreak in 1889 temporarily halted operations, yet Iriomote’s coal industry continued to expand, attracting both large and small companies.

During the Meiji era, driven by the slogan “Enrich the country, strengthen the military,” the government sought to “imperialize” the remote Sakishima Islands as part of its modernization and imperial expansion. They imposed Japanese education, banned local dialects, and continued to use prison labor to extract coal, which was used for military purposes and exported to Hong Kong and China.

Even after the poll tax was abolished in 1903, few islanders became coal miners. Instead, the labor force was largely composed of men from Shikoku, Kyushu, Okinawa, and Taiwan. Many were lured or coerced into relocating to Iriomote, only to find themselves trapped in harsh conditions. They endured perilous work, crawling through narrow tunnels with coal veins that ranged from just 15 to 90cm (20 inches to 3 feet) thick. Today, few descendants of these miners remain, and the history of the mines is rarely discussed.

The natural harbor at Funauki Bay in western Iriomote drew the Japanese government’s interest for its potential military value. After General Heihachiro Togo inspected the area in 1905, the government fortified the bay and forcibly evacuated the residents of Funauki too make way for military installations.

The influx of miners and mining companies drastically altered the lives of the islanders. Locals began trading rice, vegetables, wild boar, and fish with the miners in exchange for coal mine tickets, which became a de facto currency at the mine stores to buy mainland goods, services,  and brothel visits.The new mining economy led to the decline of traditional industries, such as weaving fine cloth, which had previously been essential for paying the poll tax. With increased reliance on imports, many traditional skills disappeared.

In 1935, the Marumitsu Mining Company discovered thick coal seams along the Utara River, a tributary of the Urauchi River in northwest Iriomote. Mining began the following year, and the company constructed accommodations for 400 single workers and more than ten houses for couples. The Utara Mine contained two main coal seams, one 60cm (2ft) thick and the other 40cm (16in) thick. Initially, transported by mine cart, coal was later moved by boats carrying 20–30 tons down the Utara River. By 1938, the mine was producing an impressive 2,500 tons of coal per month.

Compared to other mines, the worker facilities at Utara were relatively advanced and included glass windows to reduce malaria risks, large bathrooms, reliable water supplies, and an on-site doctor. A 300-seat theater, an elementary school, and community festivals provided entertainment and education for workers and their families. At its peak, the mine employed over 1,000 workers. However, mine overseers were notorious for their harsh discipline, and brutal methods were used to prevent escapes.

During World War II, coal demand surged, but mining ceased in 1943 when workers were conscripted into the Imperial Army. Post-war, the Americans briefly reopened the mines in 1953, but extracting coal from thin seams proved difficult and unprofitable. The mines were permanently closed in 1960.

Meanwhile, on neighboring Ishigaki Island, large tracts of land were granted to profiteers for sugar cane plantations, creating a tenant farming system that sparked opposition from residents. In response, the Okinawan government implemented an emigration plan, sending workers from other islands to farm sugar cane on Ishigaki.

A similar initiative brought settlers from Aragusuku Island to Iriomote, where they faced severe hardships, including malaria and hunger, as they carved out land to grow sugar cane. Despite their relentless efforts, these settlers were denied land ownership after the war due to government changes. Having invested years of backbreaking labor, they were left landless, compounding their already dire situation.

As the Pacific War escalated, many islanders were evacuated to Taiwan, while those who remained were forcibly relocated to the malaria-infested mountains of Iriomote. This relocation led to a devastating outbreak known as “war malaria,” adding to the suffering of an already beleaguered population.

War Malaria—Survivors’ Stories

(Translated and edited from the original Japanese article found here.)

The Yaeyama Islands, part of the Sakishima Islands, include Ishigaki Island, Taketomi Island, and Hateruma Island—the southernmost inhabited island in Japan. Unlike the main island of Okinawa, where fierce battles raged during World War II, no US forces landed on the Yaeyama Islands. As a result, direct war casualties, such as those from air raids, were relatively low, numbering 178. However, the Japanese Imperial Army’s forced evacuation of residents to malaria-infested mountainous areas led to an epidemic outbreak that claimed 3,647 lives.

Life during this period was grueling. Ms. Yamasato, then a child, vividly recalls the suffering. In April 1945, her family was evacuated to a makeshift mountain hut her grandfather had built. Soon after their arrival, she and her mother fell ill with malaria.

“I was so cold in my bones that I slept with my mother in my arms,” she recounted. “There was no bedding, so we covered ourselves with clothes. My spleen was swollen, and my stomach was distended.”

Malaria causes severe symptoms, including high fever, headache, and vomiting. Without access to quinine, the primary treatment at the time, the disease proved fatal for many. While Ms. Yamasato eventually recovered, her mother’s condition worsened, and she passed away. “I was only seven years old,” she said. “I didn’t fully understand the loss, but I know now that if there had been no war, my mother might still be alive.”

In June 1945, the Japanese military ordered further evacuations into the mountains, where 20 to 30 people crammed into small huts near mosquito-infested streams. Lacking medicine, they burned mugwort and drank its juice in a desperate attempt to repel mosquitoes. Ms. Yamasato’s family managed to escape, but her grandfather contracted malaria and died shortly after the war ended.

Reflecting on these events, she said, “When war breaks out, the military does not protect the people. I know this firsthand.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Another survivor, Mr. Yamane, recalls the harrowing events of June 1945. At just 15 years old, he was sent from Okinawa to Ishigaki Island and ordered to evacuate to the mountains. Shortly after, both he and his mother fell ill with malaria. Without access to medical care, his mother died without treatment.

A week before her death, she urged him, “You must not die; ask your uncle to help you.” Following her passing, a weak and emaciated Mr. Yamane hobbled to his uncle’s house leaning on a cane. Although the house wasn’t far, the journey was arduous. Had his uncle not taken him in, he believes he would have died on the street.

The malaria outbreak claimed lives at an alarming rate. Graves filled quickly, and burials and cremations could not keep pace. Mr. Yamane himself helped bury relatives in nearby fields.

“It really was hell,” Mr. Yamane said, reflecting on the tragedy. “War malaria is a painful chapter in Yaeyama’s history, and many don’t talk about it. But now, with the world once again facing the threat of war, it’s time to speak out.”

* * * * * * * * * *

During the war, more than half of Yaeyama’s 31,000 residents suffered from malaria, and over 20% of the population died. The death rate reached 27% in some sections of Ishigaki Island. On Hateruma Island, approximately one-third of the residents, evacuated to Iriomote, died from the disease.

After the war, the US military introduced the antimalarial drug Atebrin to Yaeyama. Under the Allied Forces’ General Headquarters (GHQ), the Yaeyama Civil Government and its Health Department launched a comprehensive malaria eradication campaign. Efforts included distribution surveys, epidemiological studies, chemical spraying, and administering preventive medications. Checkpoints ensured that anyone foraging in the mountains took Atebrin beforehand.

With the combined efforts of residents, government, and US military authorities, malaria was eradicated from the Yaeyama Islands in 1962.

Post-war Agriculture

After the war, many emigrants forcibly relocated to Iriomote Island returned to Miyako Island, only to face severe shortages of housing and food. The island’s pine forests, once a vital resource for lumber, had been destroyed during the war, leaving the land barren.

To address these issues, the Miyako Archipelago government obtained permission from the Southern Ryukyu military government to harvest timber near Funauki on Iriomote Island. Emigrants undertook this work, relying on provisions from the overseeing company. However, as they were sent by the local rather than central government, they were denied these supplies. Despite this, settlers supported one another and persevered through hardships, including recurring bouts of malaria. Over time, they became the primary agricultural workers on Iriomote Island, eventually driving the development of pineapple and mango farming in the island’s western region.

Meanwhile, rice cultivation on Iriomote, once central to paying the poll tax, declined. Fertile rice fields deep in river valleys—once accessible only by boat—were abandoned due to lack of road access. Their remote nature made it impractical to bring in large farming machinery, leaving the fields fallow.

Sugarcane dominates agriculture in eastern Iriomote, while pineapples are the main crop in the west. In recent years, production of both crops has been declining, mirroring trends on Taketomi Island. The decline in sugarcane is largely due to an aging workforce, with many older workers opting to convert fields into pastureland. On Ishigaki Island, the situation is exacerbated by land acquisitions for resort development by mainland investors.

Sugarcane and pineapple production differ in processing and distribution. Nearly all sugarcane is processed locally into brown sugar, while pineapples, lacking a processing facility on the island, must be shipped raw outside the prefecture. Pineapple farming faces additional challenges from an aging workforce and labor shortages, leaving fields overrun with weeds and reducing overall productivity. Reliance on low-paid, rotating agricultural interns for fieldwork has proven ineffective, perpetuating low wages and failing to ensure the long-term viability of pineapple production.

Yet Iriomote pineapples, known for their exceptional sweetness, have strong market potential. However, transportation poses another obstacle. Fresh pineapples, with their short shelf life, rely on air transport, but only two daily flights connect Iriomote to Osaka and Tokyo, limiting shipment volume. Farmers are left to manage orders individually, struggling to meet demand during the peak summer season. Residents are pushing for a dedicated cargo plane to address this bottleneck.

Beyond crops, Japanese black cattle contribute 40% of Iriomote’s gross agricultural production value. However, environmental constraints have capped further expansion of ranching. Despite these challenges, Iriomote retains its pristine wilderness, a defining feature of the island.

Okinawa’s Ongoing Struggles

Government policies have historically prioritized mainland Japan’s welfare and economic growth over Okinawa’s needs, leaving the prefecture grappling with a legacy of occupation, repression, and militarization. With its large US military presence, critics argue Okinawa continues to serve mainland interests at its own expense.

The prefecture’s poverty rate is around 35%, twice the national average, with per capita income 20% lower. It also faces the nation’s highest rates of unemployment, irregular employment, and single-parent households, along with the second-highest divorce rate. Educational outcomes are similarly troubling: Okinawa consistently ranks lowest on national achievement tests for grades six through nine and has the country’s lowest university enrollment rate.

The elderly in Okinawa bear a significant burden of poverty. The proportion of senior citizens not receiving pensions is about double the national average, partly due to the island’s extended period under US rule after World War II. While Japan’s national pension program began in 1961, Okinawa’s system was only implemented in 1970. Even after Okinawa’s return to Japanese sovereignty in 1972, low wages and limited awareness prevented many residents from paying full premiums. As of 2022, about 68% of Okinawans still do not pay standard premiums, resulting in low future benefits. Currently, 6.2% of those aged 65 and older receive no pension, and those who do receive an average of ¥51,864, the lowest in Japan.

A Beacon of Resilience

Despite enduring economic struggles and historical challenges, Okinawa is renowned for its people’s remarkable resilience and longevity. Okinawan women, in particular, enjoy an impressive average life expectancy of 87.44 years, a statistic that evokes the ancient belief in a paradisiacal “land of the immortals.”

Designated as a Blue Zone—one of the world’s regions known for exceptional longevity—Okinawa exemplifies the benefits of a balanced, traditional lifestyle. Residents maintain low stress levels, strong family and community ties, and active lives well into their 80s and beyond. Their diet, rich in locally sourced and nutrient-dense foods like sweet potatoes and other plant-based staples, helps reduce the risks of cancer, heart disease, and dementia, diseases common in Western populations.

The Okinawan way of life is deeply rooted in a deep sense of community, or yuimaru, and the concept of ikigai, a profound sense of purpose. These cultural pillars, combined with their healthy diet and active habits, have been praised as key factors in their well-being.

Though Okinawa has faced myriad challenges, its people continue to inspire with their resilience, community spirit, and positive outlook. Their enduring vitality and joie de vivre stand as a testament to the strength of their culture, reminding us that even in the face of adversity, the human spirit can thrive.

If you are interested in learning more about the history of the Ryukyu Kingdom, I recommend Okinawa: The History of an Island People, by George Kerr, a major source for this article.

The post Okinawa—the Tragic History of the Ryukyu Kingdom first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

“The beauty of flowers is to know when to fall”

Many are familiar with James Clavell’s novel, Shogun. This fantastic work of historical fiction is based on the story of William Adams, an English pilot whose crippled Dutch vessel washed ashore in Kyushu in 1600. Like the novel’s hero, Anjin-san, Adams was made a hatamoto by Tokugawa Ieyasu, Japan’s future shogun, the fictional Toranaga Yoshii. Many other characters are based on historical people: Ishido on Ishida Mitsunari, Lady Ochiba on Yodo-dono, and even the tea house madam who requested the setting aside of land for Edo’s pleasure quarters.

But of all Shogun’s characters, none evoke more sympathy than Mariko-sama, the tragic Lady Maria. She, too, has her roots in history, modeled after a Christian samurai named Hosokawa Gracia.

Background

Throughout the 15th and 16th centuries in Japan, ambitious warlords vied for power amidst constant conflict. The Ashikaga shogunate, based in the Muromachi district of Kyoto, was powerless to stop the chaos. In 1543, Portuguese sailors landed on a southern island and introduced firearms to the country. The powerful warlord, Oda Nobunaga, used these formidable weapons in his quest to unify the nation. Known as Japan’s first great unifier, Nobunaga was supported by three generals: Toyotomi Hideyoshi, Tokugawa Ieyasu, and Akechi Mitsuhide. By 1580, Nobunaga stood on the verge of realizing his ambition to unite the fractured land.

Hosokawa Gracia

Hosokawa Gracia, born Akechi Tama in 1563, was the daughter of Akechi Mitsuhide, a samurai who rose to become one of Oda Nobunaga’s trusted generals. When Tama was 16, Nobunaga arranged her marriage to Hosokawa Tadaoki, the 16-year-old son of Fujitaka, a prominent retainer of the last Ashikaga shogun. Though young, Tadaoki was already a respected warrior.

The young couple settled at Tango Hachimanyama Castle in what is now northern Kyoto Prefecture. When Tadaoki was awarded the wealthy province of Tango, they moved to Miyazu Castle. There, Tama and Tadaoki had two children and enjoyed a quiet domestic life.

Akechi Mitsuhide, the Traitor

In 1582, Tama’s father, Akechi Mitsuhide, defied an order from his lord, Oda Nobunaga, who had instructed him to join Toyotomi Hideyoshi in southwestern Honshu to subjugate the Mōri clan. Instead, Mitsuhide turned his troops toward Kyoto, where Nobunaga was staying.

Before dawn on June 21, 1582, Mitsuhide and his army of 13,000 samurai surrounded Honnōji temple. Inside, Nobunaga and his loyal servants were taken by surprise. Despite overwhelming odds, the defenders put up a fierce resistance. As the battle raged, Mitsuhide ordered the temple to be set ablaze. Amid the confusion and flames, Nobunaga ensured the safe escape of the women under his care. The he retreated to an inner chamber where he instructed his trusted aide, “Don’t let them take my head.” Nobunaga knelt, drew his dagger, and committed seppuku, the samurai’s honorable suicide. Fire consumed the temple. Nobunaga’s remains were never recovered.

Upon hearing of Mitsuhide’s betrayal and Nobunaga’s death, Toyotomi Hideyoshi swiftly negotiated peace with the Mōri and set out to avenge his lord. Meanwhile, Mitsuhide had looted Nobunaga’s luxurious Azuchi Castle on the east coast of Lake Biwa, hoping to maintain his soldiers’ loyalty with the spoils. He expected strong support from his daughter’s father-in-law, the influential Hosokawa Fujitaka, but Fujitaka severed ties with the traitor.

Hideyoshi’s 20,000-strong army caught up with Mitsuhide’s dwindling forces after only four days, catching them off guard. Many of Mitsuhide’s soldiers had deserted, leaving him with just 10,000 men. The battle was brief, and Mitsuhide’s forces were quickly routed. Mitsuhide himself met an inglorious end at the hands of a bandit leader who cut him down as he fled. His retainers recovered his head, which is interred in Kyoto on a quiet back street not far from Chion-in temple.

Repercussions

Tama’s father’s betrayal of Oda Nobunaga had profound consequences. Overnight, she became the daughter of a traitor, and with that label came the sentence of death. Mitsuhide’s entire family faced extermination. To save her, Tadaoki hid his pregnant wife deep in the mountains, in the hamlet of Midono at the foot of the sacred mountain, Kongodojiyama, in the center of the Tango Peninsula.

In this remote village, Tama lived anonymously, far enough from the capital that the locals were unaware of her father’s treachery. Protected and supported by her husband, who regularly sent provisions, she endured separation from him and their two young children. In Midono, under the influence of her lady’s maid Kiyohara Maria, Tama found solace in Christianity.

Despite the precariousness of her situation, Tama trusted in her husband’s care. Living in what locals now call the Female Castle, guarded by samurai from the Male Castle across the valley, she immersed herself in village life, teaching the local children to read and write and making charms to ward off epidemics.

While at the hamlet of Midono, Tama gave birth to her third child. Although her days were busy, she was plagued by loneliness, finding comfort in her dreams. Of this, she penned the following poem:

I thought it was real, yet

No scent of Tadaoki lingered on my sleeve.

Alas, it was just a dream.

As the months drifted by, Tama spent days contemplating the meaning of life and the inevitability of death. Aware that discovery would mean certain execution, she sought to prepare herself for the imminent end.

From Tama to Gracia

After two years in Midono, Tadaoki deemed it safe for Tama to be moved to his family’s Osaka residence where he could look after her. However, he was soon called to join his lord, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, in the conquest of Kyushu. Tama seized the opportunity of her husband’s absence to secretly visit a church with her maid, Maria. There, she engaged a Japanese priest in deep discussions on matters of faith. She desired to be baptized, but the priest was hesitant. Tama’s noble bearing and appearance had given him pause, and, not knowing her true identity, he postponed her baptism.

At home, Tadaoki’s vassals grew concerned about Tama’s late-night outings, so one evening, they went to the church to bring her home in a palanquin. The priest assigned a young man to follow her, and through him, he discovered she was the wife of Hosokawa Tadaoki. No longer allowed to visit the church, Tama remained unbaptized. She communicated with the priest through Maria and diligently studied the books he sent her. During this period, she arranged for her attendants to visit the church and be baptized.

Things changed drastically for the Catholics in 1587, when Toyotomi Hideyoshi issued the “Bateren Edict,” banning Jesuit missionaries from Japan. Disturbed by this news, and guided by her maid and confidante, Maria, Tama was baptized at her home. She took the Christian name, Gracia.

When Tadaoki returned from his campaign with Hideyoshi’s army in Kyushu, he was furious to learn of his wife’s baptism, especially in light of Hideyoshi’s edict against Christianity. He demanded she renounce her faith, but Gracia remained steadfast. 

Eventually, Tadaoki acquiesced, though he treated his wife with disdain, wounding her by threatening to take on concubines. Troubled by her husband’s behavior, Gracia confided in her priest, expressing a desire to leave him. The priest told her that divorce was not permitted in the Catholic Church and encouraged her to withstand the trials, exhorting her that “virtue is only refined in the fires of temptation.”

Meanwhile, tensions were mounting between the eastern and western factions of the country, as each strove for control. In 1598, Toyotomi Hideyoshi died, leaving his five-year-old son as heir. Hideyoshi had arranged for a council of five regents to rule until his son came of age, but they were soon splintered. Ishida Mitsunari, Hideyoshi’s senior advisor and administrator—utterly lacking in battlefield experience—rose to lead the Western faction loyal to the young heir. Tokugawa Ieyasu, an experienced general who had proven his worth in numerous battles and campaigns, commanded the Eastern faction.

In 1600, Tokugawa Ieyasu ordered his general Hosokawa Tadaoki to subdue a powerful northern warlord. Before departing, Tadaoki issued a solemn command to his retainers, “If, while I am away, my wife’s honor is threatened, kill her and then yourselves, as is our samurai custom.”

Taking advantage of Tadaoki’s absence, Tokugawa’s enemy, Ishida Mitsunari, ordered Gracia to be taken hostage in an attempt to coerce Tadaoki’s loyalty. But Gracia refused to be taken. The following day, Mitsunari’s forces surrounded her mansion. When Tadaoki’s vassals told Gracia they were surrounded, she prayed, then gathered the ladies of her house and declared, “Let me be the only one to die,” and she sent her tearful maids out. 

Knowing that suicide was forbidden by her Christian faith, Gracia engaged the help of Tadaoki’s chief retainer, who fulfilled her wish by beheading her. He then ignited an explosion that engulfed her house in flames before taking his own life through seppuku.

Hosokawa Gracia left the following death poem:

The beauty of flowers is to know when to fall.
Would that we could have such grace.

In these lines, Gracia touches on the Japanese concept of mono no aware, the deep, often melancholic appreciation of the fleeting beauty of the world, an awareness of the impermanence of things, and the bittersweet beauty found in that transience. 

Hours after Gracia’s tragic death, the Jesuit priest Gnecchi-Soldo Organtino visited the charred remains of the Hosokawa residence. There, he carefully collected Gracia’s bones and buried them in the Christian cemetery in Sakai. When Tadaoki learned of his wife’s passing, he was devastated. He sought out Father Organtino and requested a church funeral for Gracia, which he attended. He later had her remains reburied closer to his Osaka residence, at Sozenji temple.

Two months later, Ishida Mitsunari, the effective catalyst for Gracia’s death, was defeated at the Battle of Sekigahara by Tokugawa Ieyasu. After execution in Kyoto, his severed head was publicly displayed, marking an ignominious end to his life. Tokugawa and his descendants went on to rule over a peaceful Japan for 265 years until the Meiji Restoration of 1867.

For more on the difficult history of Christianity in Japan, see “26 Tragic Christian Martyrs—and Mending Relations with an Elephant.“

The post Hosokawa Gracia — The Noblewoman Who Inspired Shogun’s ‘Maria’ first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Treasure ships that brought goods, wealth, and culture

When I visited the port of Shukunegi on Sado Island a couple of years ago, I spent time at a disused elementary school that had been repurposed as a folk museum. I was fascinated by the relics that filled the old classrooms from floor to ceiling and the plentiful information about a lucrative trade route that flourished in the 18th and 19th centuries.

That trade had been quite a bit more than a difficult get-rich-quick enterprise. It changed history.

Kitamaebune Trade

From the mid-Edo Period until the 1880s, Kitamaebune ships were both conduits for trade and, as a consequence, widespread cultural interchange. These sturdy wooden vessels, with their distinctive square sails, were not just cargo vessels — they were floating trading houses.

The shipmasters would buy and sell goods at ports along their extensive voyages, which spanned from remote Hokkaido, along the coastal regions of western Honshu, and around Shimonoseki to the bustling city of Osaka. This trade route, as well as the ships themselves, became known as Kitamaebune.

“Kitamae” was the word used by people in Osaka and the Inland Sea area for the “Sea of Japan side” of Honshu. Thus, ships arriving from the Sea of Japan were referred to as Kitamaebune, or “Sea of Japan ships.” On the Japan Sea coast, they were generally known as Sengoku-bune, although some referred to them as “Bai-bune” or “Double ships,” reflecting the potential for shipowners to double their profits in a single journey.

Such profits were made possible because of the lack of rapid communication. Before the advent of telegraphs, savvy merchants realized that they could capitalize on regional price variations to earn substantial profits. By buying goods at lower prices in one area and selling them at higher prices in another, they took advantage of price differentials to maximize their earnings.

The origin of the Kitamae sea route can be traced to Maeda Toshitsune, the third lord of the Kaga Domain, now Ishikawa Prefecture. At that time, Osaka served as the economic center and a major trading hub, and each domain had a warehouse in the area. To transport rice from Maeda’s domain to Osaka, the Kaga clan had previously unloaded the cargo at the port of Tsuruga and transported it overland and via Lake Biwa to Otsu, Kyoto, and Osaka. However, this process was laborious and inefficient.

In the early 1600s, Toshitsune decided to ship 15,000 kilos of rice from the Sea of Japan southward around Shimonoseki through the Seto Inland Sea to Osaka. In 1672, this route became official when the Tokugawa shogun ordered Edo merchant Kawamura Zuiken to chart the Sea of Japan passage connecting Hokkaido and Osaka, and the Kitamaebune route was born.

The Ships

The early Kitamaebune were small, single-sail, oared vessels that could carry up to 75,000 kilos of cargo. Due to the limitations of their design and the challenging conditions of the sea, they could only complete one round trip between northern Japan and Osaka per year, from spring to autumn. In winter, when the sea was rough, the ship would be moored near the harbor and the sailors would return home on foot. With the arrival of spring, they would reunite at the harbor and prepare to set sail.

By the beginning of the 18th century, the first 24-meter-long Sengokubune were built. Sengokubune means “1,000 koku ships.” In traditional Japanese measurement, one koku equals 150 kilos. 150 kilos of rice was considered the amount needed to feed one man for a year. Taxes were calculated in terms of koku, samurai received their wages in koku, and the wealth of daimyo lords was measured by the number of koku of rice their domains produced. Thus, a Sengokubune, 1,000 koku ship, could carry an impressive 150 tons of cargo.

These new vessels boasted solid hulls, sharp bows designed to cut through the waves, and large, single-piece square sails. With these advancements, Sengokubune could complete the journey between Hokkaido and Osaka in just 12 to 13 days, marking a vast improvement in efficiency and transportation speed. Because they could sail without the need for oarsmen, these large robust vessels could be operated by a crew of just a dozen people.

Upon arrival at a port, the shipmasters had to provide a document detailing the purpose of their voyage, the number of crew members, and proof that no Christians were on board. This paper, along with inventory lists, receipts, and other essential documents were kept in specially designed waterproof chests that would float in the event of a shipwreck.

And shipwrecks were not uncommon. Before setting out, sailors would visit Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples to pray for safety. Pictures of ships offered as votive tablets, called ema, can still be seen in shrines and temples along the Kitamaebune route. These were offered both as prayers for safekeeping and as tokens of thanksgiving. In some cases, shipwreck survivors even cut off their hair and attached it to ema tablets in gratitude to the gods.

The Cargo

The Kitamae route encompassed over 100 ports along the Sea of Japan, primarily in the Hokuriku region. These served as home ports where shipowners resided, and from there, the ships sailed to Osaka. After loading necessities such as sugar and sake in Osaka, the ships started on their journeys to Hokkaido, stopping at ports along the way to stock up on items to sell. 

The shipmasters purchased specialty items from each area. In the ports along the Seto Sea, they bought salt from the numerous salt farms that dotted the coast. From Shimane, they bought iron. In Fukui, paper and knives. To ensure stability, granite slabs were used as ballast, and on top of that, the hulls were filled with an eclectic mix of goods including vinegar, tobacco, candles, pottery, cotton, textiles, indigo, dolls, and sweets. 

Upon reaching each port, the shipmasters would sell whatever goods they had in store that would make a handsome profit. Continuing their journeys further north along the Honshu coast, they would replenish their cargo. From the Hokuriku ports, they bought buckwheat, medicine, and especially rice and straw products to sell in Hokkaido where it was too cold for rice to grow.

From Hokkaido, the Kitamaebune mainly carried marine products to Osaka and ports along the way. This included valuable commodities like kombu kelp, herring, dried sardines, dried sea cucumber, salmon, and cod. The ships would set out in August, stopping at ports to sell and pick up more goods. Aside from their main cargo of rice, other items included sand iron, kozo mulberry stalks (the raw ingredient of Japanese paper), pots, agricultural equipment, salt, and copper Buddhist implements, incense burners, and vases — and safflower, a popular item in Kyoto where it was used to make lipstick and dye.

The abundant herring from the Hokkaido seas served for decades as an important source of fuel and fertilizer. The fish were processed to extract the oil, and the remains were fermented. This nutrition-rich mash was used as fertilizer for the rapidly developing cotton industry in domains along the Seto Inland Sea. Its sales brought in five to ten times its purchase price.

The profits from a single Kitamaebune voyage could amount to 60-100 million yen in today’s currency (US $450,000-$706,000). Some shipowners amassed fleets of as many as 200 large and small ships, making some families billionaires. The Honma’s of Sakata, in present-day Yamagata Prefecture, were one such family who, through scrupulous trade, grew from lowly merchants to become the largest landowners in Japan. Their wealth surpassed that of feudal lords.

An expression of the day was, 本間さまには及びもないが、せめてなりたや殿様に, Honma-sama ni ha oyobi monai ga, semete naritaya tono-sama ni. “Becoming a Honma is too far out of reach, but let me become a lord, at least!” This phrase encapsulated the ambitions of the merchant class, whose dreams of financial success focused on the Kitamaebune trade.

The Sailors

The allure of working on these treasure ships attracted many young men, but the job had its difficulties. Sailors faced demanding work, braving the perils of shipwrecks and enduring six-hour shifts through the night. Their salaries were low, around ¥200,000 to ¥300,000 per year in today’s terms (US $1,500-2,000), yet people still clamored to work on these ships because the job also had its perks.

Shipwrights were allowed to load and sell private goods, keeping the profits for themselves. Other crew members received a bonus known as kiridashi, which amounted to 5 to 10% of the ship’s sales. It’s easy to imagine how this incentivized the crew to handle the cargo with care. On a Kitamaebune carrying 15 tons of goods, a sailor’s bonus could reach a remarkable 10 million yen in today’s value (US $70,500). It’s no wonder that these jobs were popular.

A prerequisite for employment was that prospective crew members had to be from the same village as the shipowner, or else they had to provide a guarantor. Given the substantial profits at stake, having a trustworthy and capable crew was paramount. Hiring crew from the same region engendered trust, fostered camaraderie, and strengthened bonds.

Individuals could start their career on a Kitamaebune as an apprentice ship’s cook at the age of 14 or 15 and gradually progress to become a mariner. Although it took around 30 years to advance through the ranks, the hope was that eventually, a sailor could save enough money to buy his own ship and become a millionaire. 

Cultural Impacts

The far-reaching impact of the Kitamaebune trade cannot be understated. The numerous ports along the route served as centers of shipbuilding and trade, giving rise to unique local cultures and industries. As the ships traveled, they transported not only goods, but also ideas, customs, and knowledge, contributing to the exchange and spread of cultural influences.

One noteworthy area is pottery and ceramics. The Kitamaebune trade introduced distant pottery styles from Arita and Seto to ports along the Sea of Japan coast. This allowed the people in those regions to incorporate these styles into their evolving pottery tradition.

Food culture also experienced significant transformations through the Kitamaebune trade. The introduction of kombu kelp from Hokkaido led to a thriving industry of kombu-based products in the Kansai region, such as kombu-maki rolls and umami-rich dashi broth. The popularity of kombu dashi spread throughout the country, and today it is an essential ingredient in Japanese cuisine. 

The trade also facilitated the dissemination of wagashi, exquisite Japanese sweets that originated in Kyoto to accompany bitter green tea. These artistic confections added a touch of class and sophistication to the shops that served them in the northern regions.

A lesser-known Kyoto specialty called imobo, or “potato stick,” owes its origin to the Kitamaebune. This curious dish, which is not actually made from potatoes, was created using affordable dried cod from Hokkaido and a local variety of taro root. In an attempt to imitate the new, exotic, and expensive Satsuma sweet potatoes, the fish and taro were cooked together for days until they blended, resulting in a texture and look somewhat resembling boiled sweet potato sticks.

Architectural influences also spread through the Kitamaebune trade. Construction techniques that were prevalent in Kyoto were transmitted to the northwest coast of Honshu, leaving a lasting imprint on the region.

Construction materials, such as a valuable stone called shakudani-ishi, were carried on the Kitamaebune ships. This light blue volcanic tuff, mined in Fukui Prefecture, was sought after for crafting Buddhist statuary and building shrine foundations. Even the granite stones that served as ballast were repurposed for building bridges and roads. 

Music traveled with the sailors on the Kitamaebune, resulting in the transformation and adaptation of folk songs along the route. The Kyushu song “Haya-bushi” journeyed north and evolved into local folksongs still sung in Niigata and Aomori prefectures. Similarly, a popular song originating from Sakata port near Osaka made its way to Niigata, where the lyrics were adapted to depict the people and experiences associated with the Kitamaebune ships.

The port towns along the Kitamaebune route bustled with restaurants, inns, and teahouses catering to the boatmen. Diverse populations were drawn by the lure of the trade and the prosperity it brought, from geisha to master carpenters. Boatmen became known not only for their navigation and trade expertise but also for their refined appreciation of poetry and the arts. As they returned to their respective regions from the Osaka-Kyoto area,they brought back some of the sophistication and vibrant culture they had experienced.

Fashion was another area influenced by the trading ships. During the Edo Period, cotton cultivation began in the Kansai area, but the northwestern coast of Honshu was too cold for it to grow. To acquire this coveted and versatile fabric, people in those regions purchased discarded cotton garments from Osaka, transported via the Kitamaebune ships. They recycled the cloth using a method called sakiori — tearing the cloth into strips and reweaving it with thread. This technique created a uniquely textured material. Sakiori eventually gave rise to sashiko, a renowned form of Japanese embroidery.

The Kitamaebune boatmen were easily recognizable by their distinctive attire: garments of sakiori cotton, a rope in place of an obi belt, and a portable brush and ink case attached at the waist. Their clothing was not only practical, but it revealed their identity and role in the trade.

The End of an Era

As the Meiji Period (1868-1912) unfolded, technological advancements such as railroads, steamships, and telegraph communication brought about the gradual decline of the Kitamaebune trade. The rapid dissemination of commodity prices throughout the country reduced the shipowners’ ability to capitalize on price variations, impacting their profits. The majestic Kitamaebune sailing vessels were soon replaced by more efficient steamships, and the era of these iconic ships gradually faded.

Furthermore, in 1885, a government regulation banned the construction of Japanese-style ships exceeding 500 koku. This dealt a severe blow to the shipbuilding industry along the Kitamaebune route, forcing many businesses to shut down. Some shipbuilders chose to emigrate to Hokkaido, a newly opened frontier, where they could utilize their skills in the development of the burgeoning territory.

The legacy of the Kitamaebune trade, however, endures in the economic and cultural aspects of the regions along its route. Its influence can be seen in the local traditions, culinary practices, and architectural styles that were shaped by this dynamic era of maritime commerce.

One can only imagine the anticipation felt by the locals eagerly watching the horizon for the white sails of these treasure ships. The arrival of each surely brought with it a wave of excitement and wonder, as the communities knew that within their hulls lay a wealth of goods from distant lands. The joy of being connected to worlds they could only dream of must have been an extraordinary experience for the people along the Kitamaebune route.

The post Kitamaebune— The Trade that Made Shrewd Shipowners into Millionaires first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Sado Island’s lesser-known treasure

Last month I had the opportunity to visit the fascinating island of Sado, off the coast of Niigata Prefecture in northern Honshu. It felt like a land that time forgot, so charmingly rustic and old-fashioned were its buildings.

Located in the Sea of Japan, Sado was once home to mines that flourished from the early 17th century until the last one closed in 1989. Together, these mines produced an astounding 78 tons of gold and 2,300 tons of silver. That’s a lot of precious metals!

Nevertheless, I was surprised to learn that during those same years, 30% of the island’s wealth was concentrated in the quiet port town of Shukunegi.

Naturally, I had to explore.

Shukunegi

Shukunegi is on the southeast coast of Sado Island, an easy drive from my inn on the southwest coast. During the Edo era (1603–1867), the port bustled with trade. Hundreds of Sengoku-bune, a type of Japanese wooden sailing ship, were either based there or stopped by on their way to and from the port of Sakata, in the north, to Osaka on the far side of Honshu. 

The name, Sengoku-bune, means “1,000 koku ships.” Koku is a Japanese measurement that had long been used for rice. One koku equals 150 kilos. Rather than in currency, taxes were paid in numbers of koku of rice. Samurai received a set number of koku as their yearly wages. And Daimyo lords were judged wealthy by the number of koku of rice their domains produced.

These impressive sailing ships, the Sengoku-bune “1,000 koku ships,” carried 150,000 kilos of rice from the great rice-producing areas of northeastern Japan down to Osaka, stopping at ports along the way. They returned with pottery, various other goods, and remarkably, stones to replace the weight of the rice and provide necessary ballast for the ships.

You can spot these stones around the town, used in roads, foundations for buildings, monuments, and the like. One bridge in Shukunegi is made from stones carried on one of the Sengoku-bune all the way from Onomichi City, in what is today Hiroshima Prefecture.

Shukunegi is situated on a small piece of land surrounded on three sides by hills. In the late Edo era, the town along with the surrounding countryside consisted of 120 households and 500 residents. There were peasants, shipowners, captains, sailors, shipbuilders and carpenters, blacksmiths, and bucket makers. As well, there was a continuous stream of men who came and went on the Sengoku-bune.

People still live there today.

To fit the population in, architects had to be creative, fitting the buildings into small and irregularly shaped patches of land between streams and roads. They also made good use of any leftover wood from shipbuilding and from old, dismantled ships.

Prosperity threatened

In December of 1802, a 6.5 to 7.0 magnitude earthquake occurred that nearly put an end to Shukunegi’s prosperous trade. The land and sea levels along the coast were raised by two meters. The Sengoku-bune could no longer harbor in the small port. The sea had become too shallow.

Thankfully, one resourceful man came up with a solution.

Tarai-bune

Miso making requires fermenting soybeans with saltwater and rice koji — yes, the same koji that is used in making sake — in huge barrels made from cedar and bamboo. 

The story is told that a miso maker was gazing at his big barrels and struck upon an idea. He cut one in half and found that it made a fine shallow-bottomed boat. It was big and stable enough to haul freight to and from the Sengoku-bune anchored offshore.

That innovative miso-maker had made the first han-giri, or “half-cut.” The idea caught on. People started building these boats and adapting them, making them smaller and then oval-shaped. They came to be called tarai-bune, “washbasin boats.” They are controlled by using one long oar.

Fishermen use tarai-bune even today from which they hook abalone and flatfish from the shallow seafloor. Their small size makes them easy to navigate through the narrow waterways and coves of the Sado coast.

After being ferried about in a tarai-bune and seeing a surprising number of baby fugu pufferfish in the crystal-clear water, I headed off to explore the town’s museum.

Ogi Folk Museum

In 1920, an elementary school was built in Shukunegi. Due to population decline, the school was converted into a museum in 1972. 

A faithful reproduction of a Sengoku-bune nearly fills its auditorium, surrounded by a collection of old coins, beautiful ceramics, lacquerware, old chests, and other relics.

Each classroom is dedicated to a different category of objects. They are filled nearly to overflowing, giving me the impression that many grandmothers must have donated the contents of their many storerooms.

I was captivated by this amazing treasure trove of ancient and curious items, from old ema tablets, saddles, toys, shoes…

…to pipes, pottery, masu measuring boxes, toilets, fishing tools, bamboo products, and more. According to the gentleman who works there, who, incidentally, graduated from that elementary school, the building houses more than 30,000 items.

Yet, of all the hundreds of pieces of pottery in the museum, not one was made on Sado. All of it was brought in through trade, including Jomon era (14,000–300 BC) pots from neighboring Niigata.

After nearly being overwhelmed by the huge variety and amount of items to look at, I asked the fellow at the museum about a collection of Buddhist Jizo statues I had heard about. He knew what I meant. 

Since there was no one else at the museum, he left and led me down a long staircase into the heart of Shukunegi Town to a small graveyard. He told me the Jizo were behind a collection of statues.

We gingerly climbed up over the ancient statues and, indeed, the Jizo were there, grown over by grass and weeds. I guess there just aren’t enough people to get everything done in that small town.

This kind man then suggested that I might like to visit a cave nearby. After walking together back to the museum, I thanked him and then followed his directions to a staircase that led up from a narrow road.

Iwaya Cave

What I found up that stone staircase was a large sea cave created hundreds of thousands of years ago. Iwaya Cave is 70 meters above sea level, the rise in elevation is thought to have been caused by the major uplifts in the earth’s crust that occur about every 1,000 years in this area.

In this cave, archeologists have discovered ceramics dating from the Jomon era (14,000–300 BC) clear through to recent years, carvings from the middle ages, coins, ironware, and more. It is still a remarkable place, although questionably looked after.

Buddhist images carved into the cave walls are attributed to Kōbō Daishi, who founded Shingon Buddhism in the early 9th century. 

In the far back of the cave, in pitch dark, is an image of the Eleven-Faced Kannon, goddess of mercy, who sailors prayed to for safekeeping. My camera flash allowed me to capture its image.

In front of the cave are 88 stone Buddhas, representing the 88 sites of the pilgrimage on Shikoku island, established by Kōbō Daishi.

There are small towns like Shukunegi all over Japan, filled with interesting stories and hidden treasures. Fortunately for the people of Shukunegi, their town was declared an “Important Preservation District for Historic Buildings” in 1991. It is one of 126 such areas scattered across Japan that are being preserved, and they are well worth searching out.

Although we tend to think of the past as remote and distant, much of it lives on in rural Japan — in towns like Shukunegi. 

The post Shukunegi, Japan — The Town Where People Fish from Barrels first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Walking Amid Michelin Green Guide Star-Winning Beauty

I recently had the privilege of climbing Mount Haguro in northeastern Japan. The forest walk has been given 3 stars by the Michelin Green Guide, and it did not disappoint. Please allow me to share my journey with you.

Background

Mount Haguro is one of three sacred mountains known as the Dewa Sanzan, 出羽三山, meaning the three mountains of Dewa — the old name for Yamagata and Akita Prefectures. Climbing these mountains has been considered a pilgrimage of spiritual rebirth for centuries.

Each mountain in the Dewa Sanzan represents an aspect of cosmic time that pilgrims face. Mount Gassan is where we ask forgiveness for past wrongs and encounter our ancestors. Mount Haguro is where we overcome the troubles of the present world. And Mount Yudono is where we confront our future selves.

A little history

In the 6th century, Prince Hachiko, the son of the 32nd emperor of Japan, left the capital in Nara. His father, Emperor Sushin, had been assassinated, and his cousin, the influential and powerful Shotoku Taishi, advised him that discretion was the better part of valor. Hachiko accepted this advice and, difficult though it must have been, quietly left the capital.

Legend tells us that Hachiko then traveled the country, healing those wherever he went by magically absorbing their sufferings. The more hardships he took upon himself, the more disfigured he became. Yet Prince Hachiko, without concern for his earthly appearance, kept on.

Eventually, he was led to Mount Haguro by a three-legged crow. 

In a quintessential mix of Buddhism and Shinto, Prince Hachiko set up a monastery to practice Buddhism and to worship the Shinto kami of the three mountains. There he remained, teaching and healing, until his death in 641.

From the time Buddhism reached Japan in the 6th century, there was a peaceful syncretism of Buddhism with Shinto. Buddhist gods were considered manifestations of Shinto kami, and many temples and shrines shared the same grounds — some buildings even served as both Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines.

In 1868, as a means of weakening the wealth and power of Buddhist sects and to bring greater respect to the authority of the newly installed Emperor Meiji, himself a Shinto god, the government ordered the division of Buddhism and Shintoism. Temples, statues, bells, and sutras were destroyed in a frenzy of attack by Shinto nationalists. Many Buddhist priests were forced to leave the priesthood; others chose to become Shinto priests.

From that time, Buddhist images were removed from Mount Haguro. 

Climbing Mount Haguro

After consulting bus and train schedules, I took an 8:22 train from Niigata City and reached the charming city of Tsuruoka, in Yamagata Prefecture, in plenty of time to catch the 10:41 bus. The next bus was 90 minutes later, so careful planning was essential.

I had a pleasant ride past beautiful countryside with the awesome snow-covered Mount Chokai to the north providing the backdrop. After about 40 minutes, the bus drove through an enormous torii gate, along a narrow road fronting Shukubo shrine lodgings, and arrived at the foot of Mount Haguro.

My lodging for the night was easy to find.

I rang the bell at the shrine where I was going to stay and dropped off my bag. The innkeeper, the Shinto priest’s wife, visibly relaxed when she realized that the foreigner staying with her that night could speak Japanese. I thanked her for keeping my suitcase, bid her goodbye, and headed to the hiking trail.

It was 11:30 and the weather was glorious.

I bowed and passed under the torii gate, symbolizing my entry into the sacred realm of Mount Haguro, a Shinto kami. Then I approached the next gate.

The vermillion Zuishinmon Gate was previously guarded by two Buddhist Nio warriors and had been called the Niomon Gate. These statues were moved to safety and hidden during the anti-Buddhist frenzy. Today, they can be viewed at the Shozen-in Temple, a 15-minute walk from their former home. 

This gate marks the beginning of the 2,446 stone steps that lead to the summit.

In 1648, the 50th chief priest of the Dewa Sanzan, Tenyu Betto, laid the thousands of stones that lead from the vermillion gate to the mountaintop Sanjin Gosaiden shrine. It took him 13 years. Along the way, he carved 33 different Buddhist symbols into the stones. If you can find them all, it is said your prayers will assuredly be answered.

I think I found a few.

The path first leads downhill to a group of simple wooden shrines.

Then it takes us across the red, arched Shinkyo Bridge that had marked the border across which no women could pass until the 19th-century changes. To the right is the 400-year-old, man-made Suga-no-Taki waterfall, also credited to Tenyu Betto.

Soon, I meet the 1,000-year-old cedar tree affectionately called Jiji-sugi, or “Grandfather Cedar.” This majestic tree stands near the 600-year-old Go-jū-no-toh, or Five-Story Pagoda. This amazing work of architecture was originally built by none other than Taira no Masakado in the 930s. You may remember Masakado as one of Japan’s Three Most Infamous Vengeful Ghosts. 

The Go-jū-no-toh was built without using any nails. It features a large earthquake-resistant pendulum in the center which allows the building to gently and loosely sway like a snake during tremors. Its design has inspired modern techniques for constructing earthquake-proof buildings and towers, such as the 634 meter Tokyo Sky Tree. 

The current pagoda dates from 1372 when it was rebuilt by Daihoji Masauji, the chief priest of Mount Haguro. It is all that remains of a temple complex that surrounded it until the 1870s when the buildings were destroyed. Fortunately for us, the Go-jū-no-toh was rechristened as a Shinto shrine before then.

As Yamagata is deep in Japan’s snow country, each winter workers climb up inside the pagoda to sweep off the snow that accumulates on the roofs. 

After taking time to admire these awe-inspiring sights, I head up the long staircase sided by hundreds of 400-year-old cryptomeria cedar trees.

Walking through this beautiful forest, filled with the fragrance of cedar trees and joyous birdsong, I cannot think of a nicer way to spend a day.

I pass many small wooden shrines, then come upon unusual trees wrapped in a shimenawa rope, signifying that they are sacred. 

Originally two trees, through the years they reached out to each other and are now collectively known as Meoto-sugi, “The Couple Tree.” A wooden sign nearby tells us that those who hug this tree will be blessed with children.

There are three slopes along this path, each marked by a stone monument, and I have reached the third. 

I pass a shrine dedicated to the kami, Haniya-Hime no Mikoto, who was created from the feces of the creator goddess, Izanami-no-Mikoto. (I’m not making this up.) Those looking for the divine blessing of lasting relationships come here to pray.

Soon, I reach the top of the mountain, welcomed by another torii gate.

Exploring the mountaintop

I’ve climbed the 2,445 stone steps that lead from the Zuishinmon Gate to the 414 meter-high summit of Mount Haguro. I bow and enter the grounds where all three deities of the Dewa Sanzan are enshrined.

The first thing that catches my eye is a magnificent wooden shrine, a marvel of craftsmanship. It is the Itsukushima Shrine dedicated to the three deities of Munakata (in Fukuoka), and was once shared with Benzaiten, their Buddhist equivalent. These deities are incarnations of the god of water and all that flows, and they are crucial to this island nation as providers of the bounties from the sea. 

Among myriad intricate carvings are two dragons, one adorning each front pillar. Unlike the Western concept of dragons, these are helpful and wingless creatures. One is climbing up the pillar, symbolizing our struggles to attain Buddhahood through the continuous cycle of birth, death, and rebirth.

The other dragon descends, signifying its intention to come to earth and help aid the salvation of all living things.

No one knows when this building was constructed.

I pass the shrine to Prince Hachiko, then go up a few steps to pay my respects at the Sanjin-Gosaiden Shrine. This striking cedar structure was built in 1818, and it has an impressive 2.1 meter thick thatched roof, the thickest in Japan.

The gods of each of the Dewa Sanzan — Mount Haguro, Mount Gassan, and Mount Yudono — are enshrined within. This is the only mountaintop accessible all year round, so pilgrims can pay homage to all three deities here.

In front of the shrine is a pond called Kagami-ike, Mirror Pond. Although it beautifully reflects the shrine, this is not the source of its name.

In the early 20th century, the pond was drained. Over 600 ornate, bronze mirrors were recovered from its muddy bottom. Worshippers are thought to have used the mirrors as vehicles for their prayers and tossed them into the pond. Today, those mirrors have traveled as far as the British Museum and the Smithsonian Institute. Nearly 200 are on display in the nearby Dewa Sanzan Historical Museum, which, unfortunately, was closed when I visited.

Beside the pond is an ancient bell. As Shinto shrines do not usually have bells, this one is clearly a remnant of the days when Buddhism flourished in Dewa Sanzan.

The bronze bell weighs 10 tons, the 3rd largest in Japan. It was donated by the regent Hojo Tokimune as thanks for prayers offered for victory during the Mongol invasions of 1274 and 1281.

The thatched roof belfry was built in 1617, replacing the former structure that was destroyed during a typhoon.

This bell is rung only once a year, on December 31. Imagine the reverberations that echo across the mountains.

Among the other shrines on the mountaintop is Tōshō Shrine, dedicated to the deified first shogun of the Edo era, Tokugawa Ieyasu.

Another is the Reisaiden, a shrine built to house ancestral spirits. There is a spectacular painting of a dragon on the ceiling of its entranceway and a collection of Buddhist sculptural masterpieces in the building beside it. No photography is allowed.

Beside Reisaiden is a small cemetery with some unusual clothed gravestones.

Along the east side of the mountaintop, sits a row of small shrines. One of these stood out because of its collection of footwear. It is the Kensumimi Shrine, dedicated to Kamo-Taketsu-Numi no Mikoto, who, according to legend, is the kami who was incarnated as the three-legged crow.

People visit the shrine and offer footwear imbued with prayers for safe travels and healing and strength for their legs.

The climb down

After paying my respects at the modest imperial grave of Prince Hachiko, I head back to the torii gate to begin my descent.

Along the way is a sign tempting me to explore the Minami-Dani, which means southern valley. Despite the “Watch out for Bears” sign, I brave the unused trail. About 500 meters into the woods I come to a clearing that once held a temple where the great poet, Matsuo Basho, stayed while on his famous “Narrow Road to the Deep North” poetic journey in the 17th century.

There was not much left of the pond or the gazebo, but the walk is beautiful.

Back on the main path, I come across construction at a tea house. I peek into the grounds before one of the workers kindly tells me he would “appreciate me not entering.” I see enough to know that the rebuilt tea house will afford a fantastic view of the vast Shonai plains below.

Shukubo shrine stay

The innkeeper greets me at the door of the shrine lodging and shows me to my room. It is a huge 12 mat room, twice the size of a typical single room.

“Wow, this room is huge!” This is an unexpected surprise.

“You’re a foreigner, so I thought you would like a big room.”

I do!

She takes me down the hall to show me the shared bath and toilets, then back to show me the small room where my meals would be served. We agree on a 6:00 dinner, and she leaves me to wash up and relax.

Innkeepers in Japan prefer to serve dinner early, as the meals are rather elaborate, and they appreciate having plenty of time to clean up before they go to bed.

I bathe, put on the yukata robe the innkeeper provided, and before I know it, dinner is served.

It’s a feast of wild mountain vegetables and various types of tofu, including a house specialty, sesame tofu. This type of cuisine was developed in the Kamakura era by Zen monks and is called shojin-ryori.

Although Dewa Sanzan became Shinto in 1869, shojin-ryori continued to be served and adapted. Enjoying shojin-ryori is an important part of any visit to the Dewa Sanzan.

After a peaceful sleep in that quiet room between comfortable and warm futons, I wake up refreshed.

I again visit the Jiji-sugi “Grandfather Cedar” and the Go-jū-no-toh. I see many people cleaning, and learn that the mountain is cleaned one day each year.

I visit the two shrines between my inn and the Zuishinmon Gate. One is called the Tenchikon Shrine. This iteration was built in 1779 and is decorated with remarkable carvings.

The other shrine is dedicated to “The Tofu Jizō.”

With a name like that, it had to have an interesting backstory.

Before the late 19th century, this Jizō statue held pride of place on temple grounds, bringing prosperity to the worshippers on Mount Haguro and protecting pilgrims.

Sadly, when its temple compound was destroyed, this Jizō statue was cast into a ravine and forgotten.

Many years later, a mason was searching the forest for stone. He came upon the Jizō and mistook it for mere smooth stone. It seemed to him a perfect find to fashion into a stone used in making tofu. It was his lucky day — or so he thought.

The moment he struck the stone, he fell over unconscious. For three days and three nights he lay in a stupor, his mind filled with dreams.

In his dreams, Jizō appeared to him and warned him to repent of his disrespect.

When he awoke, repent, he did!

He moved the Jizō to its current position near the Zuishinmon Gate, built a shrine for him, and gave him the name “Tofu Jizō.” Today, people visit this Jizō to pray for long life, safe childbirth, and for help in raising children.

I go next door to the inn and partake of a wonderful shojin-ryori breakfast. I notice one of the dishes is a triangular chimaki, a type of rice dumpling wrapped and cooked in bamboo leaves and topped with soybean powder. It is a popular dish served on Children’s Day and one of my favorites.

After this delicious meal, I bid farewell to the kind innkeeper.

My time at Mount Haguro is up. I catch the 9:18 bus to Tsuruoka Town, satisfied after a perfect stay and looking forward to new adventures.

Mount Haguro embodies many of the reasons I write about rural Japan. Though off the beaten path, it truly is a treasure trove of culture and beauty for those who take the time to visit.

For what it’s like to stay at a Buddhist Temple, please see my article, “Shukubō — Tranquil Temple Stay in Japan.”

The post Mount Haguro—Experiencing its Rustic Magnificence first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The only double-helix wooden structure in the world

Nestled on a hillside overlooking the small city of Aizuwakamatsu in Fukushima Prefecture is an extraordinary shrine. Constructed in 1796, this architectural marvel bears the official name Entsu Sansōdō, 円通三匝堂, which translates to “the temple of three turns around.”

Above the entrance of this entirely wooden structure, an intricately carved dark wood lintel showcases two lighter-colored dragons entwined as protectors of this sacred space. But that remarkable sight pales in comparison to the building itself.

Sazaedō’s Unique architecture

Upon entering the building, visitors turn left and begin an uphill climb. The interior reveals a continuous ramp winding its way up, before passing over an arched bridge, and then descending back down. This unique double-helix design earned the shrine its popular name, Sazaedō. Sazae means spiral turban shell, and dō refers to temple or shrine.

The windows and eaves follow the incline of the ramps, tracing the spiraling path upwards and downwards. The sloping walkway maintains an unbroken course without any overlaps.

Remarkably, Sazaedō’s design did not come from the genius of an architect but rather from the ingenuity of the head priest of the nearby Shōsōji Temple, Ikudō, whose statue graces the entrance of the shrine. 

The exact source of his inspiration remains a mystery. Yet, it is believed that renewed access to Western books in 1720, thanks to Tokugawa Yoshimune lifting a long-standing ban, provided Ikudō with valuable scientific knowledge that likely influenced his design. Some speculate that he may have seen drawings of Leonardo da Vinci’s double-helix staircase at Château de Chambord in France, but there is no way to know.

One-stop pilgrimage

Sazaedō was built at a time when pilgrims undertook journeys across western Japan to visit 33 temples dedicated to Kannon, the Buddhist goddess of mercy. These pilgrimages required a significant investment in time and money. Nevertheless, people were driven by their piety to visit all the temples, offering prayers and purchasing protective amulets at each one. Sazaedō offered a revolutionary alternative.

Within its walls, all 33 Kannon statues were placed in alcoves along Sazaedō’s one-way spiral hallway, condensing the entire pilgrimage into one temple. This innovative idea made Sazaedō immensely popular, transforming it into a convenient one-stop pilgrimage destination. The success of this design inspired the construction of other spiral temples throughout Japan, although none rivaled the impressive three stories of Sazaedō.

Its official name, Entsu Sansōdō, not only alludes to its “three turns around” design but also refers to the Buddhist etiquette of walking three times clockwise around an image of the Buddha, a practice observed by all pilgrims who visit Sazaedō.

The building’s ceiling and interior walls are covered with thousands of paper stickers called senjafuda, which pilgrims used to affix to mark their visit to shrines and temples. These stickers typically display the person’s name and sometimes their place of residence. The multitude of senjafuda in Sazaedō provides a window into bygone days when visiting temples was not only a spiritual endeavor but also a popular recreational activity.

In 1868, the Meiji government ordered the separation of Buddhism and Shinto. This decree triggered the widespread destruction of Buddhist temples and statuary. During this difficult time, the 33 Kannon statues were removed from Sazaedō, and the building was redefined as a Shinto shrine.

Today, Sazaedō stands as a testament to its rich history and remains the only double-helix wooden structure in the world. Instead of statues of Kannon, the alcoves hold illustrations of moral teachings compiled by Matsudaira Katataka, the 8th lord of the Aizu clan, who ruled the area during the first half of the 19th century.

Although Aizuwakamatsu is quite far off the beaten track, it’s well worth a visit to see the amazing Sazaedō for yourself.

And while you are there, take a moment to visit the nearby shrine to the young samurai who committed seppuku, ritual suicide, during the close of the Boshin civil war in 1868.

References:

http://www.sazaedo.jp/, 朝日新聞1972年11月20日, signs.

The post Sazaedō—The Strikingly Unique Spiral Temple of Aizu, Japan first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The rise and fall of the Northern Fujiwara family

Three generations of glory

Vanished

In the space of a dream

So wrote Japan’s most famous Haiku poet, Matsuo Basho, upon visiting Hiraizumi in 1689.

Located in Iwate Prefecture, Hiraizumi is a place you may never have heard of. But it was once the capital of northern Japan, rivaling Kyoto for size, splendor, and wealth. 

The famed explorer Marco Polo described what he heard about it while in China:

They have gold in the greatest abundance, its sources being inexhaustible… The entire roof [of the sovereign’s palace] is covered with a plating of gold… The ceilings of the halls are of the same precious metal; many of the apartments have small tables of pure gold, of considerable thickness; and the windows also have golden ornaments. So vast, indeed, are the riches of the palace, that it is impossible to convey an idea of them. — The travels of Marco Polo, written 1300

This marvelous city of gold was founded by a member of the powerful Fujiwara clan, whose daughters married emperors and influenced the government in Kyoto for generations. The branch of the family that ruled in Hiraizumi is known as the Northern Fujiwara.

In order to appreciate the magnitude of what Hiraizumi once was, we need a little history.

Setting the stage

During the Heian Era (794–1185), the emperor in Kyoto ruled the area from southern Kyushu to the southern border of what now is Fukushima Prefecture. (Shown in green on the map.) 

Northern Honshu was referred to as Michinoku, “beyond the road.” It was considered wild country, the home of Emishi “barbarians.” 

Understood to have migrated from northeastern Asia, the Emishi were ethnically different from the main population of Japan. Historians theorize the name is a collective term for the various northern tribes who resisted the rule of the Japanese state. Some of the Emishi are likely the ancestors of the Ainu people, today considered the indigenous people of Hokkaido.

During the 12th century, the Emishi of northeastern Honshu were ruled over by a powerful and wealthy family, the Abe. 

Like the Kumaso and Hayato, “barbarian” people of southern Kyushu before them, the Emishi were expected to pay tribute to the court. And just like their southern counterparts, this task became so onerous that they stopped.

Because of this failure to pay tribute, Minamoto no Yoriyoshi, as Chinjufu-shōgun, “Defender of the North,” was tasked with subjugating the Emishi Abe clan. He received reinforcements from Kiyohara no Takehira, the leader of nearby Dewa Province. 

A relative of the Kyoto Fujiwara family, Fujiwara no Tsunekiyo, who had married an Emishi and moved to the hinterland, joined the Abe clan in their defense of Michinoku. 

After fighting that spanned 12 long years, the powerful Minamoto and Kiyohara allies defeated the Abe clan and Fujiwara no Tsunekiyo, who, because of his Kyoto roots, was considered a despicable traitor to the emperor.

Minamoto no Yoriyoshi, the Chinjufu-shōgun, personally exacted revenge on Tsunekiyo by publicly decapitating him — using a blunt and rusty sword to prolong the agony.

Fujiwara no Tsunekiyo left behind his Emishi wife and their son, and it is to this son that we now look.

Fujiwara no Kiyohira — the first of the Northern Fujiwara

Fujiwara no Kiyohira’s Emishi mother was taken as a concubine by one of the victors in the war, Kiyohara no Takehira, who had been named the new Chinjufu-shōgun. 

Kiyohira’s grandfather, father, and uncle had all been killed in the war. His mother’s Emishi brothers were banished to Kyushu. He was raised in a strange land in the house of his father’s enemy.

When he was 28, he found himself embroiled in another war, a vicious power struggle among his adopted family as to who would be the next to rule. Kiyohira emerged victorious, although he lost his wife and son who were viciously killed in their home by his younger half-brother.

With a heavy heart at such a tragic loss, this son of a Fujiwara and an Emishi became the next Chinjufu-shōgun, Defender of the North, ruler of the vast northern Michinoku frontiers — a land rich in gold, silver, and fine horses.

Kiyohira, whose entire life had been beset by violence, resolved to use his power to bring peace to Michinoku by turning it into a Buddhist realm.

In 1105 he moved to Hiraizumi and rebuilt Chūson-ji, 中尊寺, a temple that had been established by a Tendai Buddhist monk in 850. He wished for a Buddhist sanctuary where all people could be welcome, and he had Chūson-ji rebuilt as a place for the repose of the spirits of all those lost in the recent wars, regardless of loyalties or status.

He built Daichojuin, 大長寿院, a 15-meter-high temple that housed a 9-meter golden statue of Amida Nyōrai, the Buddha of the Pure Land. Some years later, when Japan’s first shogun, Minamoto no Yoritomo, saw Daichojuin, he was so impressed with its grandeur that he modeled Yofuku-ji temple in his capital of Kamakura after it.

Among the over 40 Buddhist temples and pagodas that Kiyohira had built, only one remains today.

It is the Konjikidō, 金色堂, Golden Hall, which was built to house a gold statue of Amida Nyōrai. Not only are the statue and altar decorations made of gold, but both the temple’s interior and exterior walls are covered with gold leaf. The pillars, altars, and beams are inlaid with jewels and mother-of-pearl, have engraved gold fittings, and are covered with makie — black lacquer sprinkled with powdered gold.

The entire temple is a glorious work of late Heian-era artistry. Today, it is housed within a protective concrete building. No photos are allowed to be taken within its walls.

When Kiyohira died in 1128, he was succeeded by his son Motohira.

Fujiwara no Motohira — the second Northern Fujiwara

As well as continuing his father’s work of expanding the Chūson-ji temple complex, Motohira also built the nearby Mōtsū-ji, 毛越寺, temple and its gardens, said to have even surpassed Chūson-ji for size and splendor.

The main hall was constructed of precious wood overlaid with gold and silver and inlaid with jewels and mother-of-pearl. It held an enormous statue of Yakushi Nyōrai, the Healing Buddha, surrounded by the Twelve Heavenly Generals, protective deities — all realistically carved with crystal eyes, the latest innovation. These statues were created by the master sculptor, Unkei. 

Amid the temples of Mōtsū-ji was a Pure Land Garden — the only part of the once-breathtaking temple complex that remains to this day.

The garden is centered on a pond and was created in the classic Heian style. It includes a magatama jewel-shaped island, peninsulas, rocky coastlines, bridges, mountain-like boulders, and a feeder stream. All these elements are in accord with Japan’s oldest garden manual, the Sakuteiki, 作庭記, “Records of Garden Making,” dating from the 11th century. Its beauty remains unchanged.

Motohira died in 1157 and was succeeded by his son, Fujiwara no Hidehira.

Fujiwara no Hidehira — the third Northern Fujiwara

Hidehira constructed the elaborate Muryōkō-in, 無量光院, modeled after the Phoenix Hall of the Byōdō-in, 平等院, just south of Kyoto. His temple in Hiraizumi, though, was said to be larger and far more grand.

Although things were peaceful in Hiraizumi, it was not the case in Kyoto. The power of the emperor was waning, the Taira and Minamoto samurai clans were growing strong and feuding, and there was great unrest in the capital.

After the first major skirmish, the victorious Taira killed the Minamoto leader and banished his sons. Young Minamoto no Yoshitsune, at age 10, ended up in a temple on Mount Hiei, where he studied Buddhism, swordsmanship, and strategy. His older half-brother, Yoritomo, was exiled to Izu (in Shizuoka). A third brother disappeared from the historical record until many years later.

In 1174, Minamoto no Yoshitsune, age 15, left the temple and traveled to Hiraizumi where he came under the protection of the Chinjufu-shōgun, Fujiwara no Hidehira. 

This seemingly small act of sheltering Yoshitsune turned out to be the spark that would lead to the downfall of the Northern Fujiwara and the eventual destruction of the architectural and artistic treasures of Hiraizumi.

The Genpei War and its aftermath

In 1180, word came that Prince Mochihito, fearing the power of the Taira clan, had asked the Minamoto clan to gather forces against them. Yoshitsune left at once for Kyoto where he joined his older half-brother, Minamoto no Yoritomo, in what came to be called the Genpei War.

This five-year epic war of the Minamoto against the Taira is filled with dramatic tales of tragedy and heroism and has become the subject of countless ballads and kabuki plays. Far too long a story to tell here.

Yoshitsune had become an expert swordsman during his years on Mount Hiei and then excelled in horsemanship in the land of the Northern Fujiwara. With his skills and cunning, Yoshitsune emerged from the Genpei War a victorious general, well-known and loved for his legendary heroics. 

Although Yoshitsune was rewarded with lands and honors by retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa, his jealous and suspicious older half-brother Yoritomo revoked them and instead tried to kill Yoshitsune.

Again, Yoshitsune sought refuge in Hiraizumi, along with his pregnant wife and his valiant friend and protector, the warrior monk, Benkei. 

Two years later, in 1187, Fujiwara no Hidehira died. Before his death, he entrusted Yoshitsune’s protection to his son, Fujiwara no Yasuhira.

Fujiwara no Yasuhira — the final Northern Fujiwara

After his victory in the Genpei War, Yoshitsune’s older half-brother, Minamoto no Yoritomo, became Japan’s first shogun. He established his capital in the natural fortress of Kamakura, just south of present-day Tokyo. 

Although firmly entrenched in power, Yoritomo was still suspicious of his younger brother. He sent word to Fujiwara no Yasuhira to have him killed.

At first, Yasuhira resisted, but his fear of Yoritomo prevailed. His soldiers surrounded Yoshitsune’s estate, his archers killed the noble Benkei, and Yoshitsune, along with his wife and child, chose suicide rather than be captured.

Yoshitsune’s head was sent to Yoritomo, yet his death and that of his household were not enough to appease the shogun. 

For the “crime” of sheltering his younger half-brother, the shogun Minamoto no Yoritomo sent forces after Yasuhira who pursued him all the way to Hokkaido. The shogun’s samurai beheaded Yasuhira, packed his head in sake, and sent it to Kamakura.

Yoritomo had Yasuhira’s head displayed publicly, like that of the worst criminals. Afterward, it was packed in a bucket and returned to Hiraizumi.

Today, Yasuhira’s head, along with the mummies of Kiyohira, Motohira, and Hidehira, are preserved within the golden Konjikidō of the Chūson-ji temple.

Lotus seeds found in the bucket in which Yasuhira’s head was sent have been planted and now bloom each year behind Chūson-ji, a fitting reminder of the glories of the peaceful Buddhist land that Kiyohira had tried to create.

The remains of the magnificent structures built by the Northern Fujiwara, as well as Chūson-ji temple, are included in the UNESCO heritage site, “Hiraizumi — Temples, Gardens and Archaeological Sites Representing the Buddhist Pure Land.”

Although Hiraizumi is off the beaten track, it is well worth a visit to have a glimpse of the fantastic glories of its bygone years.

Sources:

https://www.motsuji.or.jp/, https://hiraizumi.or.jp/index.html, 前九年の役, 前九年・後三年の役, 藤原泰衡, UNESCO website.

The post Hiraizumi — Once a Fabulous City of Gold, Now a Quiet Home of Mummies first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The Origins of Keirō no Hi

The third Sunday in September is a special holiday in Japan, Respect for the Aged Day, or Keirō no Hi. On this day, children and adults give flowers, cards, and various presents to their elders in a show of appreciation. Local communities stage performances, hold festivities, and provide special meals for their senior citizens. TV shows search out the oldest people to ask for longevity advice.

How it all started

Respect for the Aged Day traces its roots to tiny Nomotani Village in the mountains of Hyogo Prefecture, to the west of Osaka and Kyoto. In 1947, the people of Nomotani christened September 15th as Old Folks’ Day. This was done to celebrate the elderly — defined as those over age 55 — for their endurance and fortitude in surviving the difficult years of the worldwide Great Depression and the enormous upheavals and tragedies of World War II.

At that time, there were 8.4 million people over the age of 55 in Japan, of which 3.7 million were over age 65. A mere 55 people were over age 100. Disease, poverty, and war were powerful obstacles to longevity in early 20th century Japan.

As the years passed, Old Folks’ Day gained in popularity, and the practice of honoring the elderly spread. In 1963, the national government began awarding centenarians solid, 10.5 cm diameter, sterling silver sake cups in thanks for their many years of contribution to society. That year, there were 153 people who were over the age of 100.

Elderly population growth

Old Folks’ Day became a national holiday in 1966, renamed Respect for the Aged Day. The number of elderly, now defined as those over age 65, continued to climb until today they make up 30% of the population. Because the population of Japan has been declining since 2009 and the number of elderly is continuing to rise, the over-65 population is expected to reach 40% of the total population by 2055.

Due in part to the country’s extraordinary economic growth and improved healthcare, the number of centenarians has grown from the 55 identified in 1947 to 90,526 in 2022. That’s a lot of silver cups.

Apparently, the government thought so, too. In 2009, in order to cut costs, the diameter of the cups was decreased to 9 cm. Since 2016, the cups have been made from silver-plated nickel alloy.

Happy Monday

Following the passage of legislation to create Japan’s “Happy Monday System,” which moved holidays to Mondays to give workers more three-day weekends, Respect for the Aged Day was moved to the third Sunday in September beginning in 2003.

Longevity

As of 2021, the average life expectancy in Japan was the second highest in the world, being ever so slightly edged out of first place by Hong Kong. In Japan, women can expect to live 88.1 years, and men 81.9 years with an average of 85.03 years. In contrast, life expectancy in the UK is 81.77 years, and 79.11 years in the US.

Local Commendations

Prefectures across Japan have joined the national government in honoring their elderly. In Kagoshima Prefecture, in the south of Japan, newly minted 100-year-olds are visited by representatives of the city government who present them with 50,000 yen ($455 USD) and a large certificate. Kashiwa City, in Chiba Prefecture, gives 30,000 yen ($274 USD), while wealthy Tobishima Village, in Aichi Prefecture, awards each of its centenarians with 1 million yen ($9116 USD).

Could all this attention and respect be another contributing factor to the remarkable longevity of the Japanese? We’ll have to leave that one to the sociologists to figure out.

Sources:

https://nationaltoday.com/respect-aged-day/, government site on state of elderly, https://worldpopulationreview.com/, health checks, https://www.worldometers.info/demographics/life-expectancy/, https://population.un.org/, Kagoshima City homepage, Nikkei news, https://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/, https://www8.cao.go.jp/kourei/whitepaper/w-2017/zenbun/pdf/1s1s_01.pdf, http://demography.blog.fc2.com/blog-entry-6221.html

The post Respect for the Aged Day—Japan’s Unique Holiday for Honoring the Elderly first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The Obon Festival of Japan

Each year, families across Japan welcome home the spirits of their ancestors during the three-day festival of Obon. It is most widely observed in mid-August, although the timing and type of celebrations vary by region and local customs.

Some areas in northeastern Honshu follow the lunar calendar’s date for this holiday and hold their Obon festivals in July. Some areas of southwestern Honshu, Shikoku Island, and Okinawa celebrate Obon in September.

Obon’s origin

The Obon festival traces its origin to Buddha’s disciple, Mokuren, whose mother had fallen into the world of the hungry ghosts, an unpleasant realm in the afterlife. His heart ached to imagine her suffering.

In answer to his appeal for help, the Buddha instructed him to make an offering to his fellow disciple monks of a wide variety of food, and not only his mother, but also the last seven generations of his ancestors would be saved.

Mokuren obeyed the Buddha, placing his offerings of food on a tray, or obon, which is said to give the festival its name. He then danced a dance of joy, filled with a mix of newfound gratitude toward his mother, and the joy of knowing that she and his other ancestors had been released.

So Mokuren gave us three important Obon traditions:

• Offerings
• Gratitude towards mother
• Dance of joy

Now we’ll see how these have developed into today’s Obon festivities.

Welcome home, Spirits!

Families return to their ancestral homes to welcome the spirits of their departed ancestors on August 13th. Many people go to their family’s graves to accompany the spirits back to their houses, some lighting fires to guide the way. At the threshold of the house, water is set out for the spirits to wash their feet before entering.

Inside the house, a shelf is constructed with a frame of bamboo or chestnut, laid with a board. This is called a Bon-Dana, and it will hold offerings to the ancestors’ spirits. Traditionally, a rush mat is placed on the shelf, upon which are placed flowers, incense, rice dumplings, noodles, vegetables, fruit, and most importantly, water. Front and center is placed a mortuary tablet —a stone tablet inscribed with the names of the family’s deceased—like a place-marker at a banquet. Behind all this is hung a decorative scroll.

The recently deceased are honored with elaborate bamboo and cedar leaf decorations placed in the front yard or under the eaves of the house. They have not yet joined the collective ancestral spirit of their family, or Sorei. After 33 or 50 years, depending on the tradition, they will finally lose their individuality and merge with the Sorei.

Each family’s Sorei visits them four times a year, at Obon, at New Year’s, and at the spring and fall equinoxes.

But what of Homeless Spirits?

Muenbotoke are spirits of those who have died an unnatural death, at sea, along the road, or those who have no family to look after their graves. If left to themselves, it is believed that they will bring harm, so these spirits, too, are honored at Obon.

Although these strangers have no place on the family’s Bon-Dana, people may build a simple shelf and lay out food, such as eggplants and cucumbers wrapped in leaves, for the Muenbotoke. Others may lay big taro leaves upon the floor beneath the family’s Bon-Dana, upon which offerings of food are placed.

Gratitude to the living

Obon is not just about the dead. Elderly parents are given gifts of special food and drink in a show of appreciation and filial affection.

Dancing

Hearkening back to Mokuren’s dance of joy, Bon-Odori are dances held during the Obon holidays. People dress in colorful summer yukatas and dance a synchronized dance through the streets or in circles around a raised platform at shrines. Besides sending the spirits on their way to the realm of the dead with gratitude and joy, the dances also serve as prayers to ward off potential haunting or curses.

Until we meet again

On the night of August 16th, many families walk to their family graves to send their ancestors back to the spirit world. But there are other customs.

Perhaps because people in days past felt the world of the dead was across the sea, or above the sky, various traditions developed. Some people wrap offerings in lotus leaves or reeds and send their ancestors off in these makeshift boats down the river. Others form boats from straw and release their ancestors’ spirits into the sea, while others place paper lanterns on the water for their ancestors’ spirits to ride back to the spirit realm.

Most famously, the Kyoto Gozan no Okuribi is held to send the spirits off to the heavens. Five great fires are lit on five mountains surrounding Kyoto City, one by one starting at 8pm on August 16th, each forming a different Japanese character.

In some sections of the country, people prepare Shōryō-uma, horses and cows made from cucumbers and eggplants, for the spirits to ride back into the realm of the dead.

There the spirits will continue learning and growing until their next, not so widely celebrated, visit during the autumn equinox.

All photos ©Diane Tincher, unless otherwise noted.

Sources:

図説民俗探訪事典 compiled by 大島 雄, kotobank.jp, http://www.shingon.org/, and many more Japanese webpages.

The post Obon—The Happy Homecoming of the Ghosts first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.