Präriepost
Today from Osaka
July 29, 2018
The sun is out, a blue sky and occasional white clouds move slowly way up high. It is hot, very hot in this town known for its “large hills” and “large slopes.” “Do not forget your sweat-towel, you will need it today,” they advise – there is no relief in sight.
The heat follows a period of rain, rain, rain – cats and dogs, surely cats and dogs. A typhoon and a stationary low were fighting for attention, just overhead from here, and their battle resulted in pails and pails of water. ”It’s the rainy season,” they try to shrug it off, but so much rain was unexpected even for those who have been around for a while. Cars under water, mudslides at the foot of mountains, whole neighborhoods deluged. And with their calm nature, they have been cleaning for weeks now. “Everything will be back in order,” they say with a sigh, “everything will be just fine.”
This summer, people in the city have experienced a triple weather event. The heat, the flood, and before that, the earthquake. “I was really scared,” a student shared. “When my shelf fell down, I thought that I was going to die.” Fortunately, people escaped with a scare, but buildings have been damaged with a number of cracks – this orderly, cleaned up city all the sudden had water buckets under indoor ceilings because of cracks, because of invisible cracks. Nature clearly is the master in this part, in every part of the world.
The heat does not stop Ayami from tracking over to the garden, next to the train station. A student saw her bent over lying in the field, and he rushed to see what had happened, as it was too hot for anybody to spend much time outside. Nothing had happened. Ayami simply had bent over so she was closer to the weeds which she was taking out, one at a time. “It is my duty to take care of nature, beauty and order,” she said, with a coy smile. After she is done weeding, Ayami will walk over to the rice field to check the water level. If it is too high, she will have to drain the water.
Students keep playing tennis in the midday heat, with the heat index at 110 degrees. They run after soccer balls or go jogging across campus. In the evenings, older people leave their homes for a leisurely walk, while somebody plays the piano behind an open window, and young people come home on their bicycles. A boy greets strangers with “Ohayo.” ”Konbanwa,” his mother corrects with a smile, “konbanwa.” They all look forward to Monday, because it is Ocean Day; perhaps it will help with the heat.
They know how to celebrate major festivals here, in the city, and main celebrations justify a stop at the KFC. They order chicken, they sit down and they clean their hands with fresh towlets. They take a napkin, they open it up, they carefully place a piece of chicken in the napkin, they fold the napkin over the chicken, and they begin eating. It’s not “finger-licking” here, in the city of food and cleanliness. But Kuidaore Taro smiles on the other side of the street and plays his drums proclaiming to “eat until you drop, just keep your fingers clean.” This is the city for sanitary foodies.
The scholars have begun with their work, here at the university, they investigate subjective health, apo-ε4, education, and cognitive reserve, successful aging and telomeres and depression; an ambitious program. They ask questions and seek answers. They discuss, debate, and rethink. They called off a data collecting meeting with older people, the weather did not cooperate. How to reach nonagenarians on short notice? No e-mail, no cell phone, no internet. Why not the old-fashioned telegram, it is still alive and well here, in this town known for robotic research. The quick notice, however, does not stop some of the participants from showing up anyway, arriving on their bicycles or with their cars, ready to be tested. They had to go back home but devotedly came back the following weekend, in the heat of the day. Thirty nonagenarians on board – all but one in remarkable condition. They know how to take care of themselves, here, in the country of longevity.
While scientists brood over difficult questions, a young couple gets married at Shimogamo Jinja. This World Heritage site is old, very old as it dates back to the 6th century. The Kamo-jinja protects from malign influences. A good place to marry at this shrine, as you first walk through an old, a very old forest, the Tadasu no Mori. They call it the “forest that will reveal all lies.” After this walk, the couple will be ready for their future. They drink “karin” mixed with honey and fresh mountain water – a drink of health to last throughout their entire marriage.
All around town hats are in fashion. Young people wear hats, old people wear hats, women and men, everybody is wearing hats. Berets are in for young women, they can showcase themselves, boys prefer sports-themed caps. Go and buy a new hat at Umeda or some other hat shop that has emerged here and elsewhere. None of them, though, say “Make Japan Great Again.” They don’t have to.
Children prefer to play with Anpanman, the bread boy made by Uncle Jam. His head is made of bread and his body is filled with, well… anko, red bean paste, of course. A lucky guy he is, as he does not need to eat or drink to keep alive, because the bean paste allows him to sustain himself. But don’t put him in water and don’t get him dirty, because he does not like that. When he gets weak or shares a part of his head with hungry children, Uncle Jam can always bake him a new head to replace the old one. He is cool, Anpanman, just cool.
In Nagayo, the sumo wrestlers have gathered to push each other around. Tochinoshin appears to be the one to beat. He looks determined, prepared, ambitious, and he remains unbeaten during the first several days. His looks are not fear-invoking, more calculating with a touch of bewilderment. Yes, Tochinoshin is the one to beat. Recently, the competition has not been without controversy. Was it proper for a sumo wrestler to hit his foe with a bottle of whiskey over the head? Were there manipulations for top wrestlers to “win” their competition so they can stay in the top league? Is this the spirit of the original gendai budō? Sumo wrestlers were supposed to celebrate the harvest, not the money.
Another tradition takes a much slower pace. Noh theater is expressive, dramatic and animated. Gondo-san has carved Noh masks ever since he decided to retire. “I learned from the best” he says and takes out his carving knife and his chisel and begins working on the next mask with pride. There is Ko-omoto and Waka-onna, the two young women who display their guarded smiles. There is Fukei, the aging woman with a touch of remaining youth. The masks contain their own secret powers, dating back to the Muromachi period. Some are demons, ghosts, and spirits. “I decided to bring these spirits to life,” Gondo-san says with a chuckle, “it gives me pleasure to work on these projects.”
Perhaps these spirits can help with the heat, with the flood, and with the earthquake, here in the city, where everybody knows it is constantly time to wipe off a few pearls of sweat, where people wear hats again, and where children joyfully play with Anpanman.