僕はクリスマスをアメリカの親戚と一緒に過ごさないと、かなり寂しくなる。日本での8年間に、1回だけロサンゼルスの実家に帰らずにクリスマスを日本で過ごしたが、ものすごく孤独だった。友達が隣にいても、日本の街のライトアップや、お店で流れるクリスマスミュージックが空っぽに感じた。本当に外国にいると実感した。その気持ちのため、少し手間暇がかかっても、僕は2019年のクリスマスをまたロサンゼルスで過ごした。
僕は毎年アメリカに帰っても、4年前からお正月を川上村で過ごすようにしている。今年も大晦日の夜に、僕は近所の人と一緒に上多古の奥まで歩き、大年神社までの長い階段を上った。この300段の階段は人の畑と竹林の間を通り抜け、夜の暗闇へ緩やかに続いた。周りの山の真っ黒さと比べて、空は紺色に近い色に見えた。夜がしんとしていて、山の半ばまで上っても、上多古川のせせらぎがはっきり聞こえた。
僕らは零時の前に大年神社に着いた。8人ぐらいはすでに境内にいて、ドラム缶の焚き火で顔と手を暖めていた。近所のおっちゃんは「エリックがいなかったら、なんか寂しいな」と挨拶代わりに言ってから、アメリカの里帰りについて聞いた。その夜が零度を下回り、みんなは雑談をしながら震えていた。「あと1分です！」と神主さんは大きな声で報告した。僕らは2019年の最後の1分を静まった空気で過ごした。みんなはお互いに新年の挨拶を交わし、手と口を手水舎で清め、家族ごとに本殿に歩いた。僕はみんなと同じように、鳥居の鈴をガランガランと鳴らし、大年神社の神にお祈りをした。お神酒をいただいてから、みんなはまたドラム缶の焚き火を囲み、雑談を続けた。
4年前に僕は初めて大年神社に初詣をした時、山の圧倒的な暗闇、ドラム缶の焚き火の赤み、と小さな神社の神秘さに惹かれた。しかし、この初詣がだんだんそれより深い意味を持つようになった。この神社に初詣をする人は昔より少なくなっても、上多古より便利なところがあっても、みんなはここを選んだ。どれほど寒くても、眠くても、膝が痛くても、上多古の人たちは300段の階段を上り、零時を一緒に待つ。その行動で、彼らはこの初詣がどれほど大事なのかを示している。僕はその上多古の人たちの姿に心打たれ、クリスマスをアメリカの親戚と過ごしたいと同じように、お正月を上多古で過ごしたくなった。
Vol.20 A Steel Drum Can and Chatting on a New Year’s Visit
If I don’t spend Christmas with my American relatives, I get pretty lonely. In the eight years I’ve been in Japan, only once did I not go home to Los Angeles and spent Christmas in Japan, and that was incredibly lonely. Even with friends at my side, all of lit up Japanese streets and the Christmas music playing in shops just felt empty. I had the realization that I really was in a foreign country. It is because of that feeling that, even if it was a bit of a hassle, I once again spent last month’s Christmas in Los Angeles.
Even if I go home to America every year, for the last four years, I have made sure I spend New Year’s in Kawakami Village. On the evening of this past New Year’s Eve, I again walked with my neighbors to the back of Kodako and climbed the long steps up to Otoshi Shrine. The 300 steps passed between people’s vegetable gardens and bamboo groves, and continued gently up into the darkness. Compared to deep black of the surrounding mountains, the color of the sky looked almost navy blue. The night was quiet, and even after climbing half way up the mountain, we could still clearly hear the stream of the Kodako River.
We arrived at Otoshi Shrine just before midnight. There were already eight people on the shrine grounds, warming their faces and hands by the fire of the steel drum can. As a kind of greeting, one of my neighbors called, “If Eric’s not here, it kind of feels lonely,” and then asked me about my trip home to America. The temperature was below freezing that night, and everyone shivered as they chatted. “One minute left!,” the shrine caretaker loudly announced. We spent the last minute of 2019 with a calmness in the air. Everyone exchanged New Year’s greetings with one another, purified their hands and mouth at the water basin, and walked as families to the shrine. I did the same as everyone else, ringing the bell of the sacred gate with a clang, and saying a prayer to the god of Otoshi Shrine. After having some of the sacred sake, everyone once again gathered around the drum can and continued chatting.
When we built the on my first New Year’s visit to Otoshi Shrine four years ago, I was drawn to the overwhelming darkness of the mountains, the red fire in the steel drum can, and the mystique of the small shrine. However, the New Year’s visit to the shrine gradually came to have a deeper meaning. Although there are fewer people making the visit than there were a long time ago, it is because of that that visiting the shrine feels all the more important. Even if there are places more convenient than Otoshi Shrine, everyone chose here. However cold, sleepy, or however much their knees hurt, the people of Kodako climb the 300 steps and wait until midnight together. Through those actions, they are expressing just how important this New Year’s visit is for them. I was touched when I saw how they do that, and just as I want to spend Christmas with my American relatives, I came to want to spend New Year’s in Kodako.
