Writing Fukushima #3 Hinoemata Kabuki: A 270 year old treasure of Japan

The village kabuki

has ended — the falling

sakura stamens

(jishibai no hanete furu furu sakura-shibe)

※sakura-shibe furu: A spring season word. After the cherry blossom petals have fallen, the stamens left behind in the calyx, at the center of the flower, follow.

Surrounded by steep mountains which seem to separate it from the outside world, 98 percent of the village of Hinoemata is woodland and its population density is the lowest in Japan. Legends are still told of the fugitive warriors from the 12th century Genpei Wars who sought shelter here. I went to see the dedicatory Kabuki that has been performed there for 270 years. It began when villagers who made a pilgrimage to the Grand Shrine of Ise brought back Kabuki that they had seen in Kyoto, Osaka or Edo and then passed it on orally from parent to child to grandchild. The uniqueness of Hinoemata Kabuki even now lies in the fidelity with which it preserves the performance patterns and forms of that time. The performances take place on May 12, during the Atago Shrine Festival and on August 18, during the Chinju Shrine Festival, and, in recent years, for the sake of tourism, in September as well. In this mountain village with its harsh climate, amateur Kabuki was a welcome entertainment and the physical isolation enabled it to survive until our own time with its uniqueness intact. It is a perfect example of a performing art bred and nourished by climate and geography.

In May, the plants had just begun to bud in Hinoemata and patches of snow remained here and there. The village itself stretches in a narrow line along the Numata Kaido highway, with the Hinoemata River flowing beside like its back-bone, and when I got out of the car I could hear the sound of melting snow water near and far as it rushed through the village. In the precincts of Chinju Shrine the Kabuki curtain had been hung on the side of the thatch-roofed platform traditionally used for sacred dances (maidono), and preparations were underway for the evening performance. I spoke with Choichi Hoshi, leader of the Chibanoya Hanakomaza troupe. He told me that Kabuki is a kind of rite of passage for the youth of Hinoemata. That day they were going to perform the Honno-ji scene from "Ehon Taikoki." They had been rehearsing for it all winter. "The audience's applause means a lot to us, but it is the god who we think of most," said Mr. Hoshi. As he spoke, he looked up from time to time at the shrine placed in front of the stage. I have seen a photograph from the third decade of the Showa period (1955-1964) in which the villagers in traditional kimono are watching the performance with tremendous enthusiasm. Old people, children, everyone is laughing uproariously. In that era when entertainment was so scarce, how eagerly awaited this twice yearly local Kabuki must have been. When the May Kabuki was over, I was told, the villagers would scatter to the hills and the fields, and they had almost no chance to meet until the August Kabuki.

Returning to the inn for an early dinner, I found that they had treated me to sake in honor of the day. The meal itself was one for a special occasion too: white-spotted char wrapped in kelp, sticky rice with red beans, and so on. "Today is a festival day, you see," explained the inn owner and the word "festival" recurred often as he spoke. I felt how intensely the villagers were looking forward to the dedicatory Kabuki and how important it was to them.

After dinner I went back to the shrine, which was lit up by lanterns. Viewers filled the flowered rush mats spread in front of the stage, so I sat on the stone steps at the edge of the shrine grounds. From where I sat, I could see the mountains directly behind the stage. They were just turning green, and their beauty set off the unaffected simplicity of the village kabuki.

The curtain rose, and after the stage was purified by performing the felicitous Kotobuki-shiki Sanbaso dance, the long-awaited Honno-ji scene of "Ehon Taikoki" began, which depicts the fatal attack on Oda Nobunaga by his vassal Akechi Mitsuhide. The highlight was the farewells between Harunaga (Nobunaga) and his wife Ano-no-tsubone and between Harunaga's vassal Mori Ranmaru and Mori's lover Shinobu. Shinobu, whose older brother has joined forces with the traitor Mitsuhide, takes her own life in front of Harunaga and Ranmaru in order to prove her loyalty. As the play reached a peak of intensity, it suddenly began to rain. The rain seemed to melt into Shinobu's tears and make the parting scene even sadder. It also made me feel that the god of the shrine was there too, watching with us.

Hinoemata Kabuki has never missed a year, not even during the war, not even during the period of high economic growth when depopulation in rural areas was growing worse and worse. It is a ritual of importance for the villagers, as I saw, but also, in this time when much of traditional culture has disappeared or changed under the pressure of modernization, it is also a precious treasure for all of Japan.

Haiku and text: Madoka Mayuzumi

Translation: Janine Beichman

Photo credit: Fukushima-Minpo Co., Ltd.

First publication: 10 June 2014, Fukushima-Minpo Newspaper

Photo caption: Hinoemata Kabuki performance