February Joy, February Angst: On Why I'm Glad I'm Not Four

February brings the coldest month of the year in Tohoku.  Tired of snow, ice, and wind that cuts through the many layers of winter gear, spring feels far away.  It's no consolation the month only has 28 days.  It drags on, bringing down any semblance of positive energy trying to poke out from the frozen ground.

Except February is also the month for two holidays.  One Japanese, another clearly not, there’s a buzz.  Those otherwise dejected have two events to discuss.

One is the Japanese festival of setsubun.  Traditionally, this is when oni (ogres) come down from the mountains into the homes where little children live, terrifying them with their grotesque masks of pure evil and horridness.  The children throw beans at them calling out, “Oni wa soto!  Fuku wa uchi!”  

“Ogres, go away!  Good luck come inside!”  Indeed. This story is about the bravery of children determined to protect their friends from these monsters, whatever it takes.  But, first some background.

It is most definitely a local tradition, more fun for the grown men who some how get pleasure (?) of tormenting their children.  (Payback, anyone?)  There’s no going easy on the kids.  It’s tradition.  That the children cry is a given.  It’s almost the point.  All this in the name of continuing on what’s been done for generations—it’s cute and funny—except when you’re the kid facing the evil giant.

This year, the oni from Goyozan, a local mountain up north in Tohoku wrote a letter to the kids, giving fair warning of what he’s coming down from the mountain to do.  It’s Japan’s version of Santa Claus, except in this case, Santa not only doesn’t give presents if you’ve been bad, Santa comes in a evil-Santa costume, horns sticking out from under his hat throwing coal at kids who disobeyed parents.  Or something of the sort.

Here’s a translation of the letter, in its most terrible oni handwriting, complete with a larger-than-life hand print for a signature.

To the brats at XXXX Preschool,

I am the red oni from Goyozan.
How dare you all throw beans at me last year!

It hurt so bad I couldn’t sleep that night.  This year, I’ll take back you up to the mountain with me if you don't finish their lunch properly, don’t take naps, and don’t listen to your teachers.  You better be prepared!
I’m coming to your preschool on February 1^st.  Be there.  And, don’t throw beans at me.  Got it?

From the Oni of Goyozan

What must it be like to go to school with this handwritten letter from the oni most feared hanging in the hallway?  I’m so glad I’m not four years old.

Now, the story.  I’m at one of the preschools I routinely visit.  Today we’re practicing English discussing shapes.  I start with happy shapes.  In the spirit of celebrating Valentine’s Day, I take out the Valentine’s cards I brought from the States and explain to the kids, “In America, boys and girls give chocolate and cards to people they like.”   The girls pick up on this right away, giggling.  Even five year olds know in Japan girls give chocolate to the boys they like.  Boys don’t reciprocate.  Oooh.  Gross.

I’m careful to suggest the kids can write the cards to anyone.  Knowing some of these children lost relatives, I don’t say, “to your mommy” or “to your grannie” but I make the list as long as possible making sure the kids can come up with someone.  Soon, crayons in hand, we’re all addressing cards.

Done with our Valentine’s activities, I go back to my book of shapes.  I pick what I think is the simplest and point to the circle.  “Can you find any circles in the classroom?”  Hands shoot up again.  I call one a boy who points to a large bag of crumpled newspaper, the size of golf balls.  I ask what these are for.  Kids talk at once.  It’s explained to me these are the “beans” they will throw at the oni who will surely come to traumatize the kids in early February.  Another boy raises his hand, and he tells me the following story rattling off line after line, not pausing to take a breath, while the children around him nod in agreement.

“Last year, a bunch of really scary oni came to school here and we were scared, but I didn’t cry because I’m brave and strong and my daddy told me boys aren’t supposed to cry, but I felt like crying because I was so scared.  And then, when the oni came last year’s five year olds made a line, they held hands, and we all stood behind them throwing beans and newspaper balls like these at the oni yelling at them to go away because they’re bad.  The five year olds were scared, too--even the boys--and a lot of them were crying but they still protected us from the bad oni.  The babies and the kids in the younger classes were screaming because they were so scared.  But, we all had these five year olds protecting us from the bad oni.  So, our class decided this year the boys will make a line where everyone in the school can stand behind us and the girls will be right behind us because they’re five, too, and they’ll throw as many of these newspaper balls as they can.  We’re going to protect the younger kids just like the five year olds protected us last year.  We’re the five year olds now, so that’s what we’re going to do.”

It took all the resolve I had not to choke up. Forcing myself to smile as I listened to the absolute determination of these five year olds to continue the tradition of protecting the young I said, “You’re right.  You’re all very brave.  Good for you.  I’m proud of you.”  Turning red, the boy nods and I’m not sure what to say next.  Deciding I will lose it if I don’t keep talking, I decide to change the subject.  I flip through the book of shapes and find the perfect one.

“What’s this?” I say, pointing to a star.  All the kids know “star” in English and called out in unison.  We look for stars in the classroom.  Again, a success.  I end the day of shapes-in-English by making a heart with my hands, telling them I love them all, and then whisper, “And, you’re all stars.”

Kids.  I swear.  They should rule the world.

Dear God, I hope you saw what I ate today.

Humor me a moment.  Please.

I spent a long time in Iwate in the spring shortly after the tsunami hit almost 300 miles of coastline in Japan.  The memories I have will take a lifetime to tell.  One memory, however, can be explained very quickly.

Since returning from Japan in late-May, I have not eaten fish.  To clarify, I have not eaten fish that stare back at me.  I eat sushi and sashimi.  Hands down.  No questions asked.  If it doesn't look like a fish I'm fine.  Anything with a face, body, and tail, however, I have to skip.  There's a reason for this.  I saw, stepped on (guts spewing onto my boots), and smelled black, dead, rotten fish for months.  These fish washed up into homes, on the street, on top of cars, inside of cars, and simply put, could not be avoided.  Having seen and smelled these, eating anything that resembled these creatures has been a no-no.  I just can't.

So, today as I made my way to the Ofunato Sanma (saury) Festival held at the foot of Tokyo Tower, sponsored by the City of Ofunato, attended by 12,000 people, I wondered how I would avoid having to partake in eating this one-foot long fish that resembled those dead things I stepped on months ago.  I was pretty sure there would be no way to avoid having to eat one.  I was right.  (Not that this makes me happy, mind you.)

I ate it.

I avoided looking at the eye socket.  I picked at it, not looking at how black it was.  All this to say, Dear God, I really hope you saw what I ate today.  And, if there is such a log as "good deeds done today" and "bad deeds done today" I hope you put a big gold star next to my "good deeds" column for the day.

Thanks.