What has felt like a marathon of sorts is finally over: taiko matsuri.
From what I understand matsuri began as a harvest festival has evolved into a communal celebration of beating drums and civic pride. For us, festivities began before dawn on Friday when we awoke to imminent drums and chants.
Along with friends Michiko and Yoshimi, Eddy and I watched hundreds men sing heroically while carrying taikodai the size of a front-end of a semi. Later we joined the procession up the mountain side to Utsunomiya Jinja where several taikodai would be blessed.
At our own risk we were allowed to get as close as we dared— no cordons, no officials—a refreshing blending of boundaries. We became participants.
There was plenty people watching; gals negotiating stairs in stilettos, artfully teased hair, and enough chain smoking to rival a fog machine.
And with daybreak came the precarious descent.
Day 2: Competition
Like counties in the States, Niihama is broken into 50 boroughs with most having a representative taikodai, 20 of which came to Yamane Park to compete for bragging rights.
While Day 1 was all about ritual. Day 2 was pure performance and glory. The floats entered the park staged as an arena filled with thousands of spectators and like randy birds the taikodai preened.
Day 3: Fighting
It's a fact that due to elevated levels of testosterone, alcohol, and tradition, fights between taikodai often ensue and are frankly expected. We went to the Sumitomo factory area a place known for its fighting potential to watch.
Essentially the fighting involves the teams ramming the floats into one another in attempt to either damage or destroy. I didn't see any evidence of destruction but I was also preoccupied, avoiding rushing floats and plotting escape routes in the event of a stampede. Nuts!
Day 4: Floating
I must admit by Days 3 and 4 I was matsuri-ed out, but I pushed onward for one last hurrah to the northern section of town to watch the taikodais float to sea.
A fitting end.
Matsuri was an experience that surprised me. Perhaps it was cultural novelty or simply not knowing, but it gave me in its spectacle, the joy that comes with childhood and renewed belief in humans. All it took was drums, men carrying heavy things, spectators, friends, and a little magic.
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