Emerging from the underground stairs of Kiyosumi-shirakawa Station, the growing beat of taiko drums and chants of “Wasshoi, wasshoi!” quickened my pulse. Outside, curious spectators lined the sidewalks, camera-wielding overseas tourists standing shoulder to shoulder with local obasans (elderly women), a bucket of water at their feet. Enormous neighborhood groups marched by like foot soldiers, with a dedicated, sweaty crew of men and women bearing the hefty weight of their local mikoshi, the ornate, portable wooden shrine serving as the Uber of their Shinto god for the weekend. When the shrine drew near, the obasans dipped into their water buckets with large ladles and flung cool water into the air, drenching the mikoshi and its bearers alike.
This is the Fukagawa Hachiman Festival, one of Tokyo’s three great annual festivals of Shinto. Like the other great festivals, it features 50 neighborhood mikoshi that carry the spirit of the enshrined god from the area’s major shrine (in this case, Tomioka Hachiman) and take him on a joy ride that lasts all weekend long. Traditionally, it was a ritual to bless the residents and businesses of the specific neighborhoods; today, the spectacle is less about ritual and more about building and sustaining community. It literally takes a village to carry the mikoshi, which can weigh up to 2,500 kilograms, let alone along an 8-kilometer route that lasts a full day. Multiply this by 50 neighborhoods, and you begin to understand why most residents in the area need to get involved.
The sense of pride is palpable among those involved in the festival. While no fighting breaks out among participants for the chance to carry the mikoshi (with an 8-kilometer route, most people will get an opportunity anyway), you can certainly see genuine smiles despite the pain on the faces of the mikoshi bearers. The camaraderie is built throughout the event as well, with neighbors stepping in to relieve the weary or cheer them on from the sides, chanting and splashing them with refreshingly cool water.
The water has become the trademark of this festival. Originally rooted in Shinto’s purification rites, the water now serves to bring relief to participants in a fun, playful way. Children bring their squirt guns, residents their buckets, and the local firemen their hoses, which they shoot into the air at major intersections, bringing festival-induced rain down on participants (and unfortunate spectators who have wandered a little too close to the action).
For me, festivals like the Fukagawa Hachiman Festival have become more than just photogenic events. They are opportunities for a glimpse into authentic Japanese society, beyond the polish of tourist-ready attractions and experiences, the bizarre, over-the-top qualities of Japanese pop culture, and the dead-eyed gaze of weary salarymen and women. This is where Japanese people let down their guard for a while, interact with strangers as friends, and don’t hide their smiles behind surgical masks or the backs of their hands. And if you’re quick with a camera, you’ll see and record it all unfolding before your eyes.
With a quickly changing climate, summers may no longer be the season we once looked forward to as we did when we were young. But in Japan, summertime always brings festivals, and in the case of the Fukagawa Hachiman Festival, it also brings smiles and artificial rain.