Ka-Ka-Kagura, Ka-Ka-Kagura

Last Thursday, one of my colleagues told me about an event that was happening that night in a couple of the villages surrounding Takachiho. The event was kagura. Kagura is a type of traditional, slow-paced, theatrical dancing that is rather famous around these parts. For instance, the Takachiho shrine holds a daily one-hour kagura performance (that I have yet to check out), and one or two kagura dances are usually performed at the various festivals that are held around here. (I have seen some of those.)

But there was one big difference between the kagura being held Thursday night and those other "kaguras." See, Thursday night's kagura was the real deal. What do I mean by that? Well, how does all-night kagura sound? Yep, they start dancing around 7 p.m. and don't stop until about 7 a.m. Apparently, the magic number of dances is 33. Think about it: If each dance lasts 20 minutes, that's 11 hours of dancing! But I saw one dance that lasted for almost one entire hour! Holy cow!

When my colleague mentioned the dances to me, he gave me quite of bit of interesting background information about the whole activity. For example, the dances are usually held at someone's house. I'm not quite sure how someone gets chosen to host the event, but whoever does get chosen ends up hosting for something like 30-40 years! Which means the lucky homeowners are forced to renovate their place to accommodate the large amount of people who watch the event.

Furthermore, guests commonly bring one or two bottles of shochu (which is kind of like gin, or schnapps minus the fruity taste) and/or some money in exchange for the opportunity to watch the dancing. In return, the hosts provide food and drinks for the onlookers all night long. Also, each village has its one day during the year that it hosts the event, so you have the chance to go from village to village during the fall/winter months to watch lots and lots of kagura. There is even some sort of official kagura calendar that lists things such as date, location, start time, amount of people that can be hosted, and the amount of cars that can be accommodated!

Anyway, my colleague gave me a rough idea of where to find the two or three performances that were going on that night. So that night I drove around the outskirts of Takachiho for a while and, sure enough, I found a couple of locations rather easily. But neither was all that appealing, because even though I saw was a bunch of cars in a parking lot and lights at both places, I didn't see any people. Obviously, I was in the right place, but I felt uncomfortable about walking into some stranger's house. So I drove off.

Luckily, however, I'm not completely without an adventurous spirit. So instead of driving straight home, I decided to try to find a different place that was hosting the dances. Almost immediately, I found a sign pointing to another performance. Again, however, I wasn't completely sure where the house was. But after a few seconds, I saw lights off in the distance, up on the side of a hill. So I tried my best to find the house. But it was dark, the roads were narrow(!) and windy(!), and I had no idea where I was going.

I ended up driving down a road that was apparently taking me to a village that I had been to once before. (I like to explore these back roads on occasion, and I think I am therefore getting a feel for where they lead.) And then I saw lights! "Cool," I thought. "There must be some kagura going on over there!"

I eventually recognized the side road I was on and knew exactly where I was. And when I got to the main road, I knew I had struck it rich. For one, the street was decorated for kagura, which means there were red, green, and white decorations hanging. For two, there were people walking to a central location. And for three, there was a crowd of people milling around up on the hill. Bingo!

So I parked the car and walked on over. (One thing about parking here: Street parking is practically non-existent in Japan! Then again, almost anything goes here. So for events like this, people park on the side of the road. Even if that means parking only a few feet away from a tiny police station. And you really don't have to worry about getting a ticket. Oh, and another thing about parking: When you buy a car, you have to "own" a parking spot for the car. Since street parking is practically non-existent in Japan.)

I felt right at home right away. See, the dancing was going on inside the house. But the house had these nice sliding doors that opened all along the side, so a lot of people were watching from the outside as well as the inside, huddled around a couple of fires. So I made a beeline for one of the fires. (Despite the freezing temperature, I felt more comfortable standing outside than sitting inside, especially since sitting means not on a chair but on the floor on tatami, which are woven straw mats.) And because as a gaijin I'm almost an instant focal point whenever I walk into a crowd, since we are so few and far between, I was offered some shochu and conversation(!) right away.

The Japanese are a fairly creative folk. So it was no wonder that the shochu was being warmed in long, thick stalks of bamboo held in the fire and served from those same stalks and poured into bamboo cups. How cool! But I don't like shochu, so I passed. Besides, there is absolutely zero tolerance here when it comes to drinking and driving.

But I didn't pass on the conversation. I talked for quite some time (in both Japanese and English) with several locals of all ages as well as a bunch of funny, older guys from as far away as Miyazaki city and Fukuoka (both about 3 1/2 hours away), almost all of whom suggested we meet again some day. But you never know how sincere such suggestions are when they are given to you by half-drunk people.

Anyway, I watched about five hours of the dancing. Most of the dances are rather slow-paced and rhythmic, and they are almost all accompanied by slow drumming and flute playing. Sometimes the dancers carry swords, and they often shake these tamborine-like sticks. Dancers sometimes even wear masks, often with wigs attached. There are solo acts, as well as performances with up to about five dancers. And sometimes the dance is more like a play. And all the performers where these white yukata-like outfits, usually with some red and green decorations attached. Oh, and traditionally all the dancers are male (with very few exceptions).

I'm happy I got to enjoy the "real" kagura! The drum beat is somewhat mesmerizing and I found myself often whistling to the sound of the flute. I kind of wanted to stay all night long to get the full experience, but at 2 a.m. I decided to go home. (Hopefully, I'll have a camera by the time I go to watch kagura again this weekend so I can add some pictures to this post.)